


Marooned On The Planet Of The Apes

by Athaia



Series: Planet of the Apes: Hunted [1]
Category: Planet of the Apes (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fan Reboot, Fanart, Gen, Male Friendship, Post-Apocalypse, Science Fiction, Survival, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athaia/pseuds/Athaia
Summary: Astronauts Virdon and Burke crash on a primordial world that seems to be stuck in the stone age. Their plan to return to their ship to send a signal home meets an unexpected difficulty when the tribe that saved them keeps them from leaving their territory, and when they finally manage to escape, they find themselves caught in an even deadlier trap...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Val Wenel and hollyash for betaing!
> 
>  **Special thanks to Naynish** for going over the whole thing with a fine-toothed comb and discovering oh so many typos and suggesting stylistic improvements! I proudly claim all remaining mistakes for myself, as I managed to sneak them by three different betas!


	2. Chapter 2

**2075, in the vicinity of Callisto**

Space.

It fucked you up so hard. And in so many ingenious ways, too!

Major Peter Burke stepped into a corridor bathed in buttery, monochromatic yellow - night lighting, ANSA’s attempt to convince their biological clocks that the sun was setting and all the birds were going to sleep now. He moved carefully on his bare feet - he hadn’t wanted to put on the heavy magnetic boots right now. The damn clicking made him sound like a cyborg, and the fraction of _g_ that their propulsion provided them with would keep him from floating down the corridor if he didn’t push too forcefully against the deckplates.

Besides, no need to alert the others that he was up and about at this time.

He headed towards the gym, mentally compiling a hit list of space’s most ingenious ways of fucking him up since they had left Earth, starting with number five - girls.

Well, to be fair, that wasn’t space’s fault, but ANSA’s, whose bureaucrats had decided to put him on mankind’s first deep space mission with an all male crew, because apparently they didn’t trust the crew to stay professional.

 _Professional, my ass! Just ask a nurse what’s going on in any county hospital, and_ they _aren’t holed up in a tiny spaceship for years! Besides, didn’t they get the memo that men can screw each other, too? Not that that’d help_ me...

Burke grabbed the rail that was running along the wall to keep himself from hitting his skull on the deckhead. His trail of thoughts had made him put too much force into his step.

But okay, ticking number five off the list, moving on. Let’s not linger on the rapid aging of your heart with its bouts of arrhythmia because low _g_ did wonders for the circulation, or having to apply fervent prayers and brute force when you wanted to take a shit, despite all the fancy medication they had developed and tested on some unsuspecting monkeys (they had tested the stuff beforehand, right? Right?)...

Or the fact that no matter how many hours you spent in the gym, your bones were inevitably decalcifying until they were as brittle as those of your ninety year old grandma... well, at least your muscles would atrophy right alongside, so at least you couldn’t crush your hip while you were applying that brute force and fervent prayer...

Why had he jumped up and shouted, „Here, me! Take me!“ when he had learned of this mission?

_Because I wanted to be there when it happened. I wanted to see Proxima Centauri with my own eyes._

_And I wanted to see it first, before anyone else had._

They were the first crew to leave the system for another star. Not even the lack of girls had made him reconsider.

He paused at the door to the gym. There was a fair chance that Jones was in there, hugging the treadmill; their mission specialist was in his „off-bridge“ cycle, which meant taking care of everything else, including their own biological machines.

The problem was that _he_ wasn’t supposed to be here at this hour. Burke was in his sleep cycle - he should be lying in his bunk, dreaming of the girls he couldn’t have.

That’s where number one of his list came in.

There were more timegivers than just _light_ to keep all those little circadian clocks ticking along as they should, but now, without Earth’s magnetism, or gravity, or whatever kept them all in sync, Burke’s inner clocks were letting out the cuckoos at random intervals, and never all at once. According to the clock beside his bunk, it had been 03:40 a.m. According to Burke’s cuckoos, it was something between noon and after-hours party time, which meant he was trembling with nervous energy like a horse in the start box.

It had been like this the night before, and the night before _that,_ and by now, Burke had tried out everything but pills to force his body to accept the ship’s time. He had snuck out to the mess for an after-midnight snack. He had watched old movies (ok, so some of it had been porn - he needed to deal with number five somehow). He had tried just lying in bed and riding it out, waiting for the damn birds to get the damn message. _It’ s sleepy-time, assholes. Now shut the fuck up!_

Tonight, he’d try the gym. Tire himself out on the press bank, battle muscle atrophy in one go. Maybe even get an hour of sleep before his shift began. He just hoped that Jones had already done all that and was busy two decks below him in the engine room. The two of them hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot, and the cramped space of the _Icarus_ provided no opportunity to cool off and get some perspective. If Jones was in there, he’d immediately notify the ship’s commander that their pilot wasn’t taking his prescribed amount of rest.

_Shit._

For a moment, Burke debated finding something else to get him tired; Virdon wouldn’t be happy if he learned that he’d been fighting a losing battle against his insomnia for a week now without telling him. The colonel was a pretty easygoing guy, but that’d stop if he thought the mission was in danger. Which was as it should be, only he _wasn’t_ endangering the mission. He just couldn’t sleep.

Burke slapped his palm against the lock. _So I’m up early. Can’t prove that I haven’t slept the rest of my night, Jonesy._

The gym was spacious enough to hold an RED, a spin bike and a treadmill. Burke quickly checked the activity log to see if Jones had already used up his scheduled hours of training; but no such luck. The man still had a bit over two hours left of his shift, so he would turn up any moment now, an acerbic comment already on his tongue. Even when Burke had tried to ignore him, the damn engineer had found it funny to needle him until he exploded. So far, their battles had been fought only with words; Burke was constantly reminding himself that they needed the bastard to operate the Hasslein Field generators that would bring them to the Centauri system and back without relativistic time fuckery.

Couldn’t be helped. Burke had decided that he’d use the gym, and he’d be damned if he’d run away just because Jones might turn up there. He strapped himself on the treadmill and switched it on, not bothering to attach all the electrodes measuring his heart rate, blood oxygenation and whatever else that nosy machine was interested in; it wasn’t his official training session, after all, just a bit of unscheduled workout.

When he finished his routine two hours later, Jones still hadn’t turned up and Burke began to wonder. The importance of keeping up their gym routine had been hammered into their heads during training. Even if their propulsion provided low _g_ rather than a complete zero, the effects on the human organism weren’t markedly different, and on such a long mission as theirs, keeping up with their fitness program was as important as checking the machines. If something happened out here, they couldn’t just rush you to the nearest hospital. And if you passed out while operating machinery, you could put the lives of your fellow crewmates at risk.

Burke scratched his head. Jones was practically breathing regulations, and he could not only quote them down to the last subsection, he also kept them religiously. Nothing short of a stroke would keep the man from sticking to his schedule. This just wasn’t like him.

He scrolled backwards through the log, half-expecting to find that he had just been unusually lucky to have had the gym for himself tonight.

„Damn, Jonesy - you’ve been skipping PE all the fucking time!“

Never more than one day in a row; never with the same amount of days in between. But the missing days had been adding up. Burke wondered if the results were already showing on his medical evaluations. Or if he had stopped sending them, feeding Earth some bullshit about the reason he was building a backlog...

„What _were_ you doing instead, buddy?“ He called up the other stations. He couldn’t see Jones relaxing in his quarters with a beer and a movie. Though it’d be better if that’s what he’d been doing; otherwise they had a mission specialist on their hands who was ghosting all over the ship without bothering to tell anyone.

_Just like me, huh? Funny thing we’ve never run into each other before..._

Burke stared at the results on the screen, then went back to double check. Each time, Jones had been either in the server room, or down in engine control, doing... what?

„Jonesy, you sneaky bastard," he finally murmured and switched off the monitor. „What am I gonna do with you?"

It wasn't really a question, of course - he'd go down to engineering and catch the man red-handed. If there was a problem with the HFG that was severe enough to demand he'd sacrifice his five mile run to put in overtime, he should've notified Virdon immediately, and though Burke granted that Virdon didn't have to notify him about Jones' reports, he was pretty sure Jones had kept everyone in the dark. They were only a crew of three - no way he'd been kept out of the loop if they had a serious problem with any of the ship's systems.

The million dollar question was what Jones was doing down there if there _wasn't_ a problem.

He stopped by the server room just in case, but it was empty, and a quick check showed no changes to the program. Burke knew that this didn't prove anything - he wasn't a programmer, and his superficial scan wouldn't reveal anything that Jones might have buried somewhere in the computer's virtual bowels. He'd check back at a later time, but right now, he was more interested to get his hands on Jones himself.

He was better at extracting information from people than from machines, anyway.

The _Icarus_ had been outfitted with two different propulsion systems, switching duties depending on her flight mode, and the designers had decided to give her a second brain, so that the mission specialist had a dozen workstations all for himself to fiddle with instead of driving the pilot crazy on the bridge. Or maybe ANSA engineers had been watching too many episodes of _Bridge of Stars_ and thought it’d be cool to have a set of their own. Burke suspected that the blue lighting for the pseudo-hyperlight phase had been the lonely decision of a _BoS_ fanboy who had somehow inserted himself into ANSA’s inner circle of developers for the Hasslein program.

Jones’ thin frame was hunched over one of the workstations. He hadn’t noticed him yet - whatever he was doing had captured his attention so completely that he hadn’t even heard the hiss of the doors opening. Burke was pretty sure that he could sneak up on him on his bare feet; maybe he’d catch a glimpse of what he was doing.

He had almost reached the engineer when Jones whirled around to face him; he’d probably caught a movement in the smooth surface of the station. His hand slammed down on the OSK and the screen went dark, but for the fraction of a second, Burke had seen a strange graph sneaking on the display. He had no idea what it meant, but there was no need to let ol’ bugeye know that.

„Your pranks weren’t funny from the beginning, Major,“ Jones snapped, „and they aren’t getting any funnier!“ His eyes were bulging with indignant surprise... or guilt. Burke leaned closer.

„I’m not feeling very funny right now, Jonesy. Shouldn’t you be pumping those biceps? Girls like a well-defined body, ya know?“ He nodded at the screen behind Jones. „What the hell are you doin’ here at this time?“

„Just some recalibrations,“ Jones said stiffly. „I could try to explain them to you, but you’d have to bring a dictionary along. I don’t think they taught theoretical physics at flight school.“

At any other time, Burke would have gladly taken the bait. Now he just slightly narrowed his eyes. „Recalibrating the hyperlight drive? Now? We’re not even out of the system yet!“

„It’s not a _hyperlight drive!_ Stop using that ridiculous Starbridge slang!“ Jones hissed. He pushed away from the workstation and wandered to the other side of the room as if he wanted to put some distance between himself and whatever he had done at the workstation. His boots clicked heavily on the floor.

Burke slowly turned on his axis as he followed him with his eyes. „It’s _Bridge of Stars,_ and stop evading the question. You’ve been skipping your training almost since we broke orbit. If Virdon learns about your little unannounced field trips, you’ll have an interesting interview session.“

Jones froze for a moment; then his lips thinned. „And I’m sure you’ll explain to him why _you_ were wandering all over the ship during your sleep cycle, Major? Or did you fail to mention _your_ little unannounced field trips, too?“

Trips, plural? Had Jones been shadowing him? „This isn’t about me, Jones - I haven’t been messing around with the ship behind everyone’s backs. If there’s a problem with the ship, the colonel has to know about it!“

„There is no problem!“ Jones made a dismissive gesture.

„Then why are you _here?“_ Burke noticed that his voice had gotten louder, but he couldn’t help it. „If your messing with the HFG is jeopardizing the safety of the ship, I swear I’ll-“

 _„I'm_ not the one jeopardizing anything! But let’s talk about that, Major! Let’s talk about the effects of sleep deprivation on, say, a pilot’s performance - his reaction time, his ability to assess a tight situation and react appropriately...“ Jones pointed an accusing finger at him, a habit that had been pissing Burke off at least since they had passed Mars. „How long haven’t you been sleeping? Since I saw you stuffing your face with that ham and cheese sandwich in the mess two days ago, or has this been going on for even longer?“

Before Burke could take back the initiative, Jones had made two steps to the intercomm - he had been moving in that direction from the beginning, Burke realized, annoyed - and called the bridge. „I regret this, Colonel, but I have to report that the medical condition of a crew member is potentially endangering the success of the mission... and/or the safety of the ship... yes, of course I’m talking about Major Burke... yes... thank you, Colonel.“ He closed the comm and turned towards Burke with a triumphant smile.

„Col. Virdon will meet you in sickbay after his shift has ended, to make sure you get a _thorough_ physical examination.“ He sniffed. „I guess it’s you who’ll have that interesting interview session, Major. Have fun.“ He pushed past him. „Don’t forget to switch off the lights in here.“ With a last grin over his shoulder, he vanished into the corridor.

 _Well, fuck you._ Burke didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or smash something. He eyed the darkened workstation. _That was beautifully deflected, I’ll grant you that, Jonesy._

_Doesn’t change anything. I’ll find out what you’ve been doing in here, Jones. And then I’ll hand your ass to Virdon, and if he doesn’t push you out of an airlock, I will._

He didn’t bother to switch off the lights.

* * *

Virdon leaned against the medicine cabinet and tried not to glance at his watch. They were within range of Callisto’s _Hermes_ array - that genius invention by their genius project leader Hasslein that allowed them to communicate with Earth in real time, instead of having to wait up to an hour until the signal had traveled all the way out here - and he was impatient to finally talk to Sally again.

But first he had to whip some discipline into his pilot.

„So you’ll basically breathe down my neck until I’ve taken all the blood samples and pissed into a plastic bag and x-rayed myself from head to toe.“

Virdon gave his grumpy subordinate a pleasant smile. „Basically, yes.“

Burke muttered something under his breath and grabbed the collection kit.

„I’m about as thrilled to be here with you as you are,“ Virdon called after him. „And it wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d been upfront with me from the beginning.“ Burke had sworn that he hadn’t consciously withheld information about his ‘medical condition’, as Jones had called it, and Virdon was inclined to believe him. Burke claimed a number of extreme sports as his hobbies back on Earth, and was used to having a body that obeyed his demands. He simply hadn’t seen a few restless nights as a problem.

He _should’ve_ known better, though - since ANSA had been too stingy to allow for a fourth crew member, they had all sat through a medical speed training that had made, if not surgeons, at least passable paramedics out of them. When they’d had to choose between a handler for the Hasslein Field generators and a surgeon, the deciders at ANSA hadn’t hesitated for a second. So the crew had been brought up to speed as far as possible without a full medical training, with a special emphasis on staying healthy instead of treating illnesses.

„I don’t have to tell you that there’s nothing impairing performance as quickly as sleep deprivation,“ he said when Burke came back and slipped the test tube into the analyzer. „Your reaction time, your coordination, your cognitive capacity-“

„What - you think I sleep-hallucinated Jones sneaking around the ship when he’s got no business doing that?“ Burke interrupted him, irritated. „I know what I saw, and _you_ know it’s damn unusual behaviour for iron-cheeks.“ He stabbed at the display with more force than necessary.

„Paranoia is also a symptom,“ Virdon continued dryly. „No, I agree, it’s not Jones’ usual behaviour, but as I said, if someone has a reason to check on the generators in the middle of the night, it’s him.“ He handed Burke a tablet with a blood collection set and its assorted materials.

„Yeah, right,“ Burke scoffed, and pulled the tourniquet tight around his upper arm. „Did he tell you what he was doing down in engineering? He had some pretty strange calculations going on.“

„I’m taking care of it, Pete, leave that to me.“ The last thing he needed was open warfare between his pilot and his engineer. They had been locking horns even during training, and Virdon wondered yet again why ANSA had insisted on keeping Jones in the team.

Well, actually it had been Hasslein who had insisted on Jones, and him who had insisted on Burke. And here they were. Virdon suppressed a sigh. He couldn’t let the men’s personal animosity get out of hand. They had a long journey ahead of them.

„I’m sacrificing my free time for you, Pete,“ he teased. „You should be more appreciative.“

„You’re a lousy nurse,“ Burke muttered and reached for the needle. “More like a warden, come to think of it.”

„Jones threatened to inform ANSA,“ Virdon gave up on his attempt to lighten the conversation. „I thought you’d prefer me over them.“

„Eh, what could they do? Send a relief after us?" Burke cast him a quick glance, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. „They'd have to sit it out and bite their nails. Hell, we should tell them and watch them go ape over it!"

„I’d like to complete my last assignment with my dignity intact if it’s all the same to you,“ Virdon said, slightly peeved. Burke grinned and clucked his tongue.

„So, uh, how’s Sally and the kid doing?“

Virdon shook his head, but was secretly glad that Burke had dropped the topic of Jones and his alleged sinister, yet undetermined plans with the ship’s engines for now. „They’re doing fine. In fact, I’m waiting for their call right now.“

Burke hummed. „You don’t have to waste your time here - go and wait for it in your quarters, squeeze every minute out of that call.“

Virdon shook his head and stretched his legs. „I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’ve fed all your data into the computer.“

„You’re kind of overbearing, Colonel,“ Burke growled. He exchanged the blood collection tube on the needle. „I feel like a lab rat.“

They were lab rats, in a sense. Nobody knew what deep space would do to them, if the ship’s insulation would shield them sufficiently from the hard radiation, or if the Hasslein Field generators would warp more than local spacetime. Even if Burke hadn’t been ordered for an unscheduled physical, the scientists back on Earth wanted as much biochemical data of their astronauts as possible. They’d serve science, even if they didn’t survive the trip.

Virdon found it best not to linger on those thoughts. „How’s your girlfriend? Sondra, isn’t it?“

Burke shrugged. „Fine, I guess. Haven’t gotten around to talk to her.“

Virdon laughed and shook his head. „She won’t wait for you if you don’t talk to her once in a while.“

„We’re both busy,“ Burke said defensively and pulled the needle out of his arm. Virdon leaned forward to press a swab on the spot until Burke had his hand free again.

„She’s off to Sumatra or wherever, counting monkeys,“ Burke continued. Then he grinned. „She’d rip me a new one for that. Apes... she’s working with _apes_. Taking blood samples? Seems there’s a new virus doing the rounds and they’re worried it could jump species.“

„A pandemic is the last thing this planet needs on top of everything else,“ Virdon murmured.

Burke shook his head. „They’ll cap it before it can take off. She’s brilliant. But busy,“ he forestalled Virdon’s next comment.

Virdon held up his hands. He had no business poking his nose into Burke’s relationship hangups. He nodded towards the tray with the blood samples. „Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?“

Burke rolled his eyes. „No, doc. I promise to be good from now on.“

„Great.“ Virdon rose and opened the medicine cabinet. „You can prove your sincerity by taking one of these, before bed.“

Burke made no move to take the offered pills. „I don’t need no stinkin’ drugs.“

„Colonel, we have comm contact with Earth,“ Jones’ voice droned over the speaker. „Line will only be open for a few minutes. I’m putting it through to your quarters.“

Virdon dropped the carton on the table. „Don’t force me to come and tuck you in.“

„Hell yeah, you could sing me a lullaby,“ Burke called after him.

Cheeky bastard. For a moment, Virdon contemplated forced exposure to some Italian opera music at bedtime, but that’d probably be considered excessive punishment. He’d think of something else... after he’d taken that call from home. From Sally.

He walked faster.

* * *

Virdon slid into his seat and switched on the comm. „This is the _Icarus_ \- is anyone on that old blue planet listening?“

„Hi, Dad!“

Virdon smiled when a boy’s voice filled the tiny cabin. „Hello, ground control. How’s it going down there?“

„Everything’s under control, _Icarus,“_ the boy replied earnestly. Virdon’s smile broadened.

„That’s good to hear, Chris. How are you? How’s school?“

„School’s okay,“ Chris said without much enthusiasm. „There’s a new girl in my biology class, Gina Lombardi,“ he added after a moment.

„Ah,“ Virdon said knowingly. „She’s nice?“

„She’s okay.“

Virdon thought he could practically _hear_ his son shrug. He didn’t let himself be fooled by the casual tone. „Well, I hope you’ll wait for my return before you ask her out,“ he teased.

_„Dad! “_

Virdon thought he could hear Sally laugh in the background. „Hello, wife!“ His eyes lingered on the pendant dangling from his monitor. Sally’s and Chris’ faces smiled back at him, tiny engravings on two metal plates no bigger than dog tags.

„I punched Paul Anderson in the face, and mom had to come to see the principal,“ Chris butted in before his mother could say anything. Apparently he wanted to relay the bad news himself.

Virdon rubbed his scalp. He had come to know Paul Anderson, though not personally, over the last six months. „Listen, Chris, don’t let guys like Paul get under your skin.“

„He said the radiation was frying your balls off and that you were watching porn all day and... and stuff.“ Chris’ voice trailed away into a mumble. With the next words, it became determined again. „If someone insults you or mom, I’ll punch them in the face!“

„If you punch people in the face, it won’t stop their way of thinking, or the way they talk about you, Chris. They just won’t say it to your face anymore. Then you have moved the problem into the dark, where you can't see it, nor deal with it. It solves nothing.“

„Okay, dad,“ Chris said noncommittally, and Virdon fervently wished to be back on Earth, to have more than a few minutes to talk things through. How did you deal with schoolyard bullies from almost 600 million miles away?

He had to leave this to Sally. It wasn’t fair to her, but what could he do? „You’ll find a better way to deal with Paul and the likes of him, you’re a smart guy. The smartest guy I know.“

„Hm...“

„We’ll talk about this when I’m back, okay?“ If he was on Earth now, he’d put his arm around Chris’ shoulders - his son was old enough now to only accept man-hugs; and they’d sit on the porch and talk about how to deal with Paul Anderson and his foul mouth, and then they’d talk about a million other things...

„What if something happens?“ Chris interrupted his thoughts.

Virdon frowned. „What should happen?“

„I dunno. What if the ship explodes? Or what if it runs out of fuel at Alpha Centauri and you can’t come back?“

„There’s no reason the ship should explode - our EM drive is protected by incredibly strong magnetic fields, and we won’t run out of fuel because we have a nuclear reactor to power the HFGs.“

„What if an alien fungus infests the ship?“

Virdon grinned and scratched his brow. „You’ve been watching _Bridge of Stars_ again, haven’t you?“

„But it could happen!“

„No, it can’t. We’re not landing on any alien planets, so there’s no chance anything can come aboard.“

„But...“

„Chris.“ He had to stop this train of thought right now, before it became a train wreck.

The comm was silent now. Virdon breathed a sigh. „Son. I assure you, everything will be fine. But if... _if..._ anything _should_ happen, I promise you, I’ll find a way to deal with it. And I’ll find a way home, no matter what. Ok?“

„Ok,“ Chris answered with a small voice.

„Good. Now, let me talk to your mother for a moment, before our time is up. Love you, son.“

„I love you too, dad.“ There was a rustling noise.

„How are you, Alan?“ Sally’s warm voice was in the room and all around him, and the warmth was spreading in his chest.

„Missing you.“

He could hear her smile. „If that was true, what are you doing out there, mister?“

„I have no idea,“ he admitted.

„Is everything ok up there?“

„Everything’s fine,“ he assured her, consciously dismissing his insomniac pilot from his mind, „and everything’s been running according to specs since lift off. Don’t let that sci fi show get to you, folks.“

Sally sighed a laugh. „It’s not that show. I saw Hasslein on livestream yesterday, giving yet another interview. The man’s a narcissist.“

He agreed with her about Hasslein, but there was no point in fanning her fears. „He’s a brilliant scientist. He made this mission possible, so he has bragging rights. And whatever his personal flaws, his machines don’t have them. He’s the one who’s most invested in the _Icarus’_ success. Heck, they even named the field generators after him.“

„And when mankind sends its first colony ship, I bet he’ll insist that it’d be named ‘Hasslein’s Ark’,“ Sally scoffed. Virdon snorted. She had a point there.

„Why did it have to be you, Alan? Ah, no, forget I said that... it’s just the hormones speaking.“ She kept her voice light, but Virdon sensed the pain underneath. He hung his head.

„They asked me. They wanted me for my experience - how could I’ve said no? So much depends on this mission...“

„I know...“

„This’ll be my last flight,“ he reassured her. „After that, I’ll just train the young hopefuls - our future generation of fearless explorers. I’ll be under your feet constantly, until you wish you could tie me to a rocket and send me to the moon...“

She laughed for his sake, and he brushed over the image of her face with his finger. „We need these colonies,“ he reasoned, as he had done so often before. „The sooner, the better.“

„The suboxic zone off of California has again expanded,“ Sally whispered. „It’s happening much faster than we thought - the entire West Coast will be dead in less than two years. I spoke with Dr. Adesina - she thinks in another five years, we’ll see the same thing happening with the entire subarctic Pacific. The only remnants of marine life will be found in the cooler arctic seas, and perhaps in some areas in the middle of the Pacific, if we’re lucky.“

„You aren’t still working out there?“ Virdon asked, alarmed. Sally was eight months pregnant by now... She should’ve already taken maternity leave.

„No, of course not. Alan, in two years' time we might be faced with the biggest global famine in the history of mankind.“ Sally’s voice was brittle. „And we won’t have a colony by then. We won’t even have a colony _ship._ You’ll be just returning...“

„It won’t be too late,“ Virdon said, as much for her sake as for his own. „We’ll find a new home, and give the old lady time to recover.“ If Burke didn’t fly the ship into an asteroid, drunk from sleep deprivation... if Jones didn’t fiddle with the machines until his obsession with efficiency took them a step too far... if he didn’t let himself get infected with Burke’s paranoia. Virdon tried to shake off the bout of sudden panic. He couldn’t let their precious time end on such an apocalyptic note.

„How’s my little girl doing?“ he asked.

„Keeping me awake half the night,“ Sally took up his light tone. „I guess by now we’re both eager to get this whole birthing thing underway.“

„I wish I could be there,“ Virdon murmured. „You shouldn’t be alone, when...“

„My mom will be there, and your mom, and your dad... don’t worry, Alan, we’ll be fine.“ Sally’s voice was firm, upbeat - trying to cheer him up. „By the time you come back, Chris will have taught her the deck plan of the _Icarus_ and all the techno babble from _Bridge of Stars._ I can’t promise that she’ll speak English, though.“

He laughed against his will. „She’ll be all set for the first colony flight, then.“

„I’ll make sure she’ll at least know how to say ‘we come in peace’... and ‘I love you, dad’.“

He swallowed. „I love you, too.“

„Love you always, Alan. Stay safe.“

And then their time was up. _Icarus_ hurried away from Himalia’s _Hermes_ comm relay, and the real-time connection went silent.

Virdon sat there for a long time, the pendants warming in his fist.

* * *

 ****By the time his shift on the bridge was coming to an end, Burke was sure he’d be able to lay his head on the pillow and sleep for all eight hours of his rest cycle, no help from Virdon’s pills needed. His eyes were burning and he constantly had to fight the urge to yawn.

He vigorously rubbed his face. It helped, for a moment.

He didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that he hadn’t had much to do on his shift. On the one hand, it was hard to keep your eyes open when you didn’t have more to do than checking numbers on a screen. On the other hand, it had given him much too much time to think about Jones and his secret activities in the engine room.

After their nightly confrontation, Burke had tried to find out what exactly the engineer had done to their computers, but either Jones was too sneaky, or Burke was too tired to catch any changes to the program. He was acutely aware that his lack of sleep meant he could’ve stared at the evidence without his brain registering it, and the thought was driving him crazy.

„I’m taking over, Major.“

Burke rubbed his face again. God, he was tired. „Told ya, it’s Burke.“ He wasn’t going to address Jones with ‘mission specialist’ every time he was forced to acknowledge his presence, either. Especially since Jones insisted on it - predictably, the man had refused to adapt to their more relaxed interaction.

„You look exhausted, Major. Been up late again?“ Jones stood behind his seat, urging him silently to cede the station to him. Burke stayed where he was.

„Not your business, Jones.“ He tried to keep his voice neutral. „And you’re ten minutes early. I’m not finished here.“

„That’s _mister_ Jones, and shouldn’t you be happy to be relieved early? You look as if you could use that break.“ Jones sat down on the neighbouring console, but didn’t bother to switch on the monitor. Instead, Burke felt him watching him as he randomly called up the numbers of the environmental systems. Everything inside normal parameters. Of course. He’d be damned if he rose a second early.

„You know,“ Jones said conversationally, „if your sleeping habits are beginning to impede your performance, it’d be the duty of the ship’s commander to either remove you from the controls or...“

„No need, Jonesy,“ Burke ground out, hanging on to his self-control, „I’m fine. But if you feel there’s something _else_ you should talk about with Al, don’t be shy. Being a dad has made him long-suffering...“

„I have no idea what you’re talking about,“ Jones said stiffly.

Burke sighed and gave up the pretense of working. He turned around to face the engineer. „I’m talking about anything, I mean _anything_ out of the ordinary. Like... machines not running smoothly, a bug in the program...“ He turned up his palm. „Not being able to find your favourite movie channel anymore...“

„I really think I should talk to the commander about our pilot’s episodes while he’s manning the navigational controls,“ Jones said with raised brows. „That seems to be extraordinary enough to warrant his attention.“

_Fuck you, Jones. Let no one say I didn’t give you the chance to come forward by yourself._

But Jones wasn’t finished yet. „Movie channels! Have you displaced your porn collection?“

Burke grinned. „Some people on this ship have relationships with real women - try it some time.“ With a pang, he remembered that he still hadn’t talked to Sondra. There were two more _Hermes_ arrays ahead of them, one at Callisto and the last one out at Enceladus; two opportunities to connect with your loved ones in real time, as the signals were tunneled towards Earth.

Did Sondra qualify as a ‘loved one’? Burke wasn’t sure.

He was pretty sure though that Jones didn’t have anyone he’d talk to back home - their engineer seemed to prefer the company of machines to that of living beings. Burke couldn’t even imagine him with a goldfish.

On the other hand, people did surprise you with the damnedest things. On a whim, he opened up the comm log.

At the neighbouring station, Jones shifted in his seat. Burke glanced at the clock. He still had two minutes of his shift left. And by god, he’d use them to the last damn second!

Later, Burke was never able to say what made him check the integrity of the log. Maybe it had been all that talk from Jones about porn, and some half-thought about how Jones wouldn’t want to be caught dead with something as biological as that.

When the result appeared on his screen, Burke felt, for the first time in days, wide awake.

„Speaking of unusual activities,“ he said slowly, „how about tampering with the ship’s log?“

He looked up to meet Jones’ blank stare. „Are you saying the log files are compromised?“ Jones asked, incredulous.

Burke held his gaze for a moment. „No, I’m saying they’re _missing._ Someone has erased documentation of their calls back home. Or from home, it’s hard to say without, y’know, a log.“

Jones nodded thoughtfully. „Perhaps that’s your... ‘bug in the program’ you had mentioned before. I’ll look into it-“

„That’s not a bug! Someone fixed the log! Who were you talking to, Jones? The Chinese? The Indians?“ The _Icarus_ was the first FTL ship and, as far as Burke knew, the only one of its kind. Other spacefaring nations would love to get their grubby hands on the blueprints, the codes... „How much did they pay you?“

Jones had been shaking his head since Burke had began his rant. Now he held up his hands as if he feared that Burke would jump over to strangle him. „You’re paranoid! Delusional! I haven’t talked to anyone, and I didn’t manipulate the log, that’s... that’s ridiculous!“

„Who else should’ve done it? Virdon?“

„You!“ Jones stabbed an accusing finger at him.

Burke blinked. „Wha- hell, no! What reason... look, _I_ know it wasn’t me, and I definitely know it wasn’t the commander, so that leaves only you. Better come clean now, and-“

Jones rose from his seat. „ _You_ went to manipulate the log so that you could accuse me, destroy my career! You’ve engaged in unprovoked and irrational hostility ever since we boarded the _Icarus_ , and your lack of sleep has only worsened your erratic behaviour.“ His eyes glinted. „I can call on the commander as a witness for your antics, and then it’ll be my word against yours, Major. Who do you think ANSA will believe more?“

Burke stared at him for a moment, impressed against his will by the man’s chutzpah. _He’d even have a chance to get away with it,_ he realized. Virdon was aware of his insomnia now, and the animosity between Jones and himself was no secret to anyone on board.

„If you endanger this mission, or the ship, I’ll have your ass,“ he said softly. „You haven’t seen me _erratic_ yet.“

Jones scoffed and sank back into his seat, visibly relaxing. „And I’ll add ‘threats against my life’ to the list. Do continue digging that hole, Burke.“ He glanced at the clock. „And get out of my seat.“

Burke rose without a word. He had sent a copy of the diagnostics result of the log to Virdon, for all the good that would do, but otherwise, his discovery was useless.

Well, except for the fact that he was now absolutely certain he hadn’t dreamt Jones’ secret excursions to the engine room.

_I’ll find something you can’t wiggle your way out of, asshole, even if it’s just a fortune cookie under your bed._

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

If there was one word to describe Jones’ quarters, it was _spartan_. It was understood that on such a long trip, people needed a retreat, so they were afforded the luxury of separate cabins; but on a small ship, the living space for each man was naturally tiny and cramped. Still, Burke mused, Virdon had managed to make a home of his designated hole, with pictures of his family, a panoramic photo of the Texan desert over his bunk, and some fossils on a shelf that he and his son had dug up together. Even Burke’s own quarters weren’t that empty, although he didn’t have family who insisted on loading him up with memorabilia that threatened to exceed weight limitations every time.

But Jones had nothing - no personal knicknacks, no pictures on the wall. The cabin looked as if fresh from spacedock; it even had retained that new car smell. The bed was made with military precision, blanket folded exactly at the corners, pillow parallel to the bed’s edge. Desk and shelf were bare; not even an e-reader was lying around.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

The doors on the _Icarus_ opened by fingerprint recognition, but had also an electronic lock with an override option, in case someone had a heart attack in their private quarters. Only the ship’s commander had that override code, actually, but it hadn’t been that hard to crack. After returning empty handed from the server room, Jones’ quarters had been the only place left where Burke could hope to find evidence for the engineer’s criminal activity. It had to be either treason or sabotage, and for the sake of all their lives, Burke hoped it wasn’t sabotage.

Right now, though, the only one engaging in criminal activity was him. Breaking and entering was illegal, even in space, so he’d better find that fortune cookie if he wanted to save his career.

At least Jones’ asceticism simplified his search and saved him from going through used underwear. Burke allowed himself a slight smile when he discovered a tablet in the desk’s drawer. Someone didn’t want to share the goods with the internal network? People were too intent on privacy nowadays... He switched it on, connected it with the password cracker he had brought along, and continued searching the desk while the program did its work.

They were both finished quickly, and Burke began to sift through the files. Some technical journals, some of Jones’ own articles about the HFG that he had published in _Progress in Aerospace Sciences_ and _International Journal of Engine Research_. Several half-finished outlines for future articles... downloads of papers from theoretical physicists - wormhole theory. Nothing that indicated any shenanigans with a hostile power. Burke sighed and rubbed his burning eyes.

 _Maybe they're right and I’m jus’ paranoid. Maybe I should take Al’s pills ‘n get some sleep..._ He wondered if he could appeal for sleep deprivation-induced insanity in court.

Well. He was here now, so might as well scroll down all the way, right? Four untitled files... He tried the first one; it refused to open. Burke raised his brows. _You have something to hide after all, Jonesy?_ He tried the other three with the same result.

After a quick check for the time, Burke decided to copy all four of them; he could try to crack them in his own quarters, when he didn’t have to listen for footsteps all the time. For now, the most interesting fact about those files was their origin.

They had all been sent by Hasslein.

Burke leaned back in Jones’ chair and stared at the wall for a moment. If Jones had talked to the Chinese, it would’ve made sense to keep the conversation secret. But Hasslein was their project leader, and Jones could’ve talked to him openly all the time without anyone batting an eye. Why keep those conversations under wraps, and even go to the extreme of manipulating the log?

_What's in those damn files?_

Would this be enough to convince Virdon to open an official investigation? With the conversations that had been wiped from the log reappearing on Jones’ private computer, Burke could at least prove that it had been him who had tampered with the log. No matter what their content, messing with the log was illegal.

Burke smiled and dropped the tablet on Jones’s desk. „I got your ass now, just as promised.“ He rose. Time to wake Virdon and urge him to secure the evidence...

The door hissed open.

He and Jones stared at each other for a moment. Burke was the first to recover.

„Your shift isn’t over yet. Who’s flying the ship?“

Jones’ eyes were dark with anger. „What are you doing in my quarters?“

Burke smiled at him. Let him wonder if he’d found something. „I must’ve confused our doors. Only realised it when there was no beer in the fridge...“

„The cabins don’t have fridges,“ Jones ground out.

„Yeah, I think that’s the underlying problem...“

_„What were you doing in here?“_

There was no way in hell he’d tip Jones off about what he had found or how much he knew. Keep him guessing. Perhaps he’d make a mistake if he panicked.

„Just crashin’ on your couch, buddy.“

Burke tried to edge around him into the corridor, but Jones moved to block his way. His glance flicked to the tablet on the desk, now dark and innocent again, and back to Burke, burning with certainty. His hand slammed against the doorframe. „You’re going nowhere until the commander has come down here and put my complaint on record. Breaking and entering, Burke, breaking and entering. I’ll file charges against you...“

„You do that, Jonesy,“ Burke drawled, „it’ll be a damn interesting court session. _Damn_ interesting.“

Jones paled; there was no way to tell if from fear or rage. He kept eye contact with Burke as he squeezed around him to get to his comm console, perhaps to make sure that he didn’t bolt. Burke just smiled and leaned against the doorframe.

„This is Jones, sorry to wake you, sir... but you need to come over immediately. Major Burke has broken into my quarters and refuses to return what he has stolen from me.“

* * *

Virdon felt that his head had barely touched the pillow when Jones’ enraged voice boomed over the intercom. „Major Burke has broken into my quarters... stolen from me...“

He tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. „I’m on my way.“

Burke was lounging in the door to Jones’ cabin, looking not at all guilty. Jones, on the other hand, looked as if he’d have a heart attack any moment, his face red, hands clenched to fists. Virdon had never seen him so out of control.

At his arrival, both men turned to him and immediately started shouting over each other. Virdon held up a hand, to no avail.

_„Gentlemen!“_

To his relief, the shouting stopped. „Let’s clear this up as quickly as possible - and it’ll be easier if only one of you shouts at a time.“ He frowned at Jones. „You’re in the middle of your shift - I hope you have a _very_ good reason to have left your station, Mr. Jones.“

„I had reason to be worried about the integrity of my privacy,“ Jones snapped, „and I was right about that! Aren’t you going to ask the major here what he was doing in my quarters? That’s _illegal! “_

 _„_ There _is_ no reason to leave your station, unless I order you to, “ Virdon said icily. „You’ll return immediately to the bridge and resume your duty. This isn’t a _circus! “_ Though it increasingly felt like one. At least Burke had the good sense to lose his smirk now.

But Jones didn’t move. „He broke into my computer!“ He pointed at Burke. „You give back whatever it was you’ve stolen, this is _private data,_ which you have no _right_ to view, much less _take!“_

Burke straightened. „I secured evidence that you tampered with the log, Jones, and that’s not the only dirt I have on you! Believe me, you’ll do more time than I when we return!“

Virdon took a deep breath. This was looking more and more like a classical clusterfuck. And they weren’t even out of the system yet. „Did you copy anything from Mr. Jones’ computer, Major Burke?“

Burke’s face was shuttered. „I’m not ready to divulge that information... unless you want to open a formal investigation.“

„He _did_ it,“ Jones muttered.

 _Jesus Christ, Burke!_ Virdon hoped that his annoyance didn’t show on his face. He strained to keep his voice calm. „But you admit to breaking into Mr. Jones’ quarters and his computer?“

„The circumstances made it unavoidable. Sir.“

Virdon rubbed his face. „You’re not really helping your case here, Burke.“

„I know. I’m sorry.“

„Burke,“ Virdon said tiredly, „if you’ve taken anything from Mr. Jones, I’d advise you to return it now, and I won’t take this to ANSA. I’d prefer to settle this matter off the record - we have a long journey still ahead of us, and we can’t afford to wage war against each other out here.“ He glanced to Jones to include him in his appeal.

But both men shook their heads. „I _insist_ on taking this to ANSA, “ Jones said through clenched teeth. „I’m officially filing charges against the major for breaking and entering, theft, and... and threatening me with assault! He’s _unhinged!_ He hasn’t been sleeping for a week now! _“_

And that was the rather unsettling context for this whole disaster, Virdon silently admitted. But first things first. „I believe I gave you an order a minute ago, Jones.“ He thought his voice was as light and calm as ever, but Jones didn’t lose a second to comply this time.

Virdon allowed himself to lean against the wall for a moment. _Why, why me?_

„I’ll tell you what I found...“ Burke started.

Virdon pushed away from the wall. „You bet you will.“

 

* * *

The mess „hall“ was no more than a kitchenette, but it was the only „conference room“ they had, if they didn’t want to assemble in the gym. It was so tiny that people couldn’t help but step on each other’s toes, but Burke suspected that Virdon would have been in his face even in a stadium. He had never seen his mild-mannered commander so thoroughly pissed off.

„What the hell went into you to think that committing a criminal offense would be a good idea, Burke?“

Burke decided for the brutal truth. „I thought I’d be finished before he came back.“

Virdon took a step back, visibly forcing himself to calm down. „I really want to help you to get out of this mess you made for yourself, Pete,“ he said in a controlled voice. „How about you help me to help you?“

Now... now he had to present his case in a way that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic. An insomniac lunatic. Burke cleared his throat.

„You remember those clandestine visits to the engine room when Jones should’ve row, row, rowed his boat in the gym? That wasn’t the only feature of his double life. He also chatted with Earth during his bridge shifts...“

Virdon threw up his hands. „And that’s all you have? Should I announce my conversations with my family so as not to become suspicious, too?“

„Hear me out first. It’s not that he didn’t announce them - it’s that he erased them from the log afterwards.“ Burke nodded when Virdon’s eyes narrowed. „Tampering with the log - that’s a big no-no. So I thought, maybe he’d been bought off by the Chinese or some other hostile nation that’s eager to fuck up our mission.“

„He wouldn’t endanger the ship as long as he’s on board himself,“ Virdon said dryly. „He’s not that fanatic.“

Burke shrugged. That was an obvious point that had somehow escaped him at the time. „Yeah, and he wouldn’t be able to buy that house in Hawaii if he’d be too dead to cash in the check. But why go to all the trouble if his calls were so innocent?“ He glanced at his commander. „But he denied that he did anything to the log and it was his word against mine.“

„And for some reason you thought his word would be better than yours?“

„Well... as everyone loves to point out, I haven’t had much sleep lately...“

Virdon shook his head. „I’ll question Jones about that manipulation of the log, but you _broke into his quarters_ \- I hope for you that whatever you found is worth that trouble.“

„I found the files he received during those contacts with Earth. They were all sent by Hasslein.“

Virdon turned away and raked his hands through his hair. „That’s... not really indicting, Pete!“ He turned back to him. „Hasslein is the genius behind this technology, and Jones is the mission specialist. Why would they _not_ talk?“

„Then why bury them like that? I couldn’t even open those files - what’s in them that’s so super secret not even the rest of this crew must know it? I don’t know about you, but on a ship that’s gonna attempt the first FTL transit ever, I’d rather not rely on a teammate who’s pushing a secret agenda behind my back.“

Virdon laughed mirthlessly. „That really sounds paranoid. You may want to keep that strategy in mind for your defense in court.“

Burke clenched his fists in helpless frustration. „Jones is up to something he doesn’t want us to know until it’s too late, and I want to stop him before we all go to hell!“ He stepped back. „Like you said, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us; you’ll want to know who to trust out there.“

There was a long stretch of silence while Virdon was apparently contemplating that very question. „Do you think you can crack those files?“ he finally asked.

Burke shrugged. „I’ve no idea. I didn’t really have the time to do anything but copy them.“

„Even if they incriminate Jones... or Hasslein, we won’t be able to use that as evidence,“ Virdon warned. „Since you acquired them illegally.“

„I just want to save our asses - and if they don’t put Hasslein and him away, at least I’ll know better than to share another flight with Jones,“ Burke muttered. „ _Will_ you open that investigation, Colonel? Because in that case I’ll hop over to the bridge and remove the bastard from the ship’s controls before he can...“

The lighting changed to blue.

„Oh _shit. “_

 

* * *

 

 ****The bridge was deserted.

Virdon paused for a second, trying to catch his breath, scanning the tiny nook a second time despite himself - there just wasn’t enough room to hide anywhere.

„The door to the server room is locked and doesn’t react to my handprint anymore,“ Burke’s hoarse voice came over the intercom. Virdon glanced around the bridge for the last time and slid into the seat of his station.

„Jones is either in there, or in the engine control room,“ he said grimly. „Override that lock.“ That, at least, shouldn’t be a problem for Burke...

„Uh, just tried that,“ came the reply. „The lock was charged - threw me across the corridor.“

Virdon shook his head and suppressed a curse. „You were a bit too successful with rousing him, Burke - we need to shut down the Hasslein Field generators before we upset the whole solar system.“ Around him, the ghostly blue light was still announcing that their engineer had initiated the FTL protocol.

They weren’t really breaking the light barrier - it was one of the few absolutes that human ingenuity couldn’t ignore. Instead, they had found a way to sneak around it by shrinking space in front of, and expanding it behind their ship. Everyone agreed that it wasn’t advisable to change the parameters of spacetime inside a planetary system, though - best not to impact the course of a celestial body in the vicinity of your homeworld.

Everyone except Jones, apparently. Virdon called up the HFG control screen.

„Can you shut down the program from the bridge?“

_Access denied_

„No. I’m trying to bully my way through Jones’ defenses, but this doesn’t look like a last-ditch lockdown.“ Virdon quickly scanned his options. „I have access to the navigational controls and the comm. Everything else is off limits.“

„Yeah, whatever he’s planning, he needs us to complete that slingshot at Callisto,“ Burke commented dryly.

Virdon rubbed his lips, thinking. „Go to the machine room, see if you can shut down the generators manually. And remove Jones from the controls.“

„On it.“

„This may not be the only trap,“ Virdon warned him. „Don’t be brash!“

„Who, me? I promise to club him down gently.“

„Keep me informed.“ Virdon called up the readings of the field generators. For a moment he feared the computer would refuse that request, too, but apparently he was still allowed to watch.

As far as he was able to make sense of the data before his eyes, the field generators weren’t creating a bubble. The settings were way outside the approved parameters; under these conditions, the field building up in front of the ship’s bow wasn’t bending space, but tearing it apart.

„What did you tell our machines?“ Virdon whispered to himself. He opened the comm. „Mr. Jones? I’m having some unusual readings on my screen. I need an engineer’s eye to make sense of them. Care to fill me in?“

Silence answered him. He tried again. „Mr. Jones, whatever you started, there’s still time to abort. You have to be aware that you’re not only endangering the ship and the mission, but also affecting every celestial object in our immediate vicinity. The repercussions for the rest of the system-“

„There’s absolutely no danger to Earth, Colonel.“ Jones sounded terse. He had to be under immense stress. „I checked the calculations several times.“

Virdon straightened in his seat. „You had _planned_ to start the transit protocol from inside the system?“

„No... no. But I couldn’t let the major get in the way... we _had_ to run the new protocol. We only had this one chance.“

We. So Hasslein had been in on the plan. No, Virdon corrected himself, he had probably hatched that plan in the first place. „If this was a spontaneous decision from you, how can you be so sure that your on-the-fly calculations won’t cause the ship to play billiards with our planets, moons and asteroids?“

There was a moment of silence. „Just trust me on this,“ Jones finally said.

„That’s a bit much to ask right now, don’t you think?“ Virdon had been trying to get through Jones’ encryption in the meantime, but realistically, he knew it was hopeless, especially within the timeframe he had. It seemed he didn’t have any more luck with the man himself. The only thing he could do right now was to keep him distracted while Burke was forcing his way into the engine control room. „What could be so important that you’re willing to gamble with our lives?“

„That’s strange coming from you, Colonel - isn’t risking our lives part of the job description?“

Virdon clenched his teeth. „I was talking of the billions of lives back on Earth.“

„I’m trying to _save_ mankind!“ Jones began to sound hectic. Had he noticed suspicious sounds from the door?

„We’re already trying to save mankind with this mission, Jones,“ Virdon said quickly. „You’re not helping with that, you’re jeopardizing our-“

„That mission won’t be able to save us in time!“ Jones yelled, and Virdon winced at the shrill undertone of hysteria in it. „Don’t you get it? There’s not enough _time! “_

„Jones, whatever Hasslein told you-“

„Professor Hasslein has a superior mind, Virdon! A superior mind! He can look at a problem from all angles, _dispassionately,_ and see it for what it is - and the solution to it.“

On his screen, numbers were changing too quickly for Virdon’s eyes. He was condemned to watch helplessly while something like a cosmic storm was building a hundred miles off the _Icarus'_ bow - a storm of their own making.

* * *

 ****A small science vessel like the _Icarus_ didn’t indulge often in the luxury of doors. The private quarters had them, for obvious reasons, as well as the server room, for equally obvious reasons. The engineering section could have done without them, as far as Burke was concerned. He glared at the blocked door and decided not to bother with the lock - his arm was still tingling from his attempt at the server room, and he wasn’t eager to get electrocuted twice in five minutes.

Since the _Icarus_ ’ designers hadn’t foreseen a mutiny - and the resulting necessity of forced entry -, the sliding doors didn’t really provide an edge that he could use to lever them apart. He had to insert something small and thin into the crack between the door blades to wedge them open before he could push some sturdier tool into the crack and force his way in. That sturdier tool was the crowbar that they still took on board even now. As for the small and thin tool...

Burke looked at the knife in his hand and sighed. That was another tradition ANSA had continued from its old days when it had still been called NASA - astronauts had been carrying knives as part of their survival kits since the _Mercury_ missions, to pry open the capsule hatch, or fend off the Soviets in case they took a wrong turn on reentry. It didn’t compare to the bolo knife he had at home, but it was still a fine piece of work, and Burke had adopted it as a surrogate for the duration of the mission. He hated to use it as a glorified can opener now, and risk breaking off the tip or blunting the edge, but he couldn’t think of an alternative and there was no time to go looking for one.

He lowered himself to one knee and carefully set the tip of the blade onto the thin crack. With a winding motion, he forced the blade deeper. _If I ruin my blade here, I'll have your dirty neck, you bastard._ He pushed the bar into the gap as soon as it was wide enough, and forced the doors back into the wall with knee and shoulder, trying to be as quiet as possible. Finally, he wedged the blade under one of the doorblades to keep it open, _I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll never use you as a door stopper again, I promise,_ and slipped into the control room.

It was dark in there, save for the blinking lights on the control panels; somehow, Jones had switched off the blue FTL lighting, though Burke couldn’t imagine why. Maybe it was unnerving him as much as the rest of them, a reminder that he was forcing the ship to break protocol in the worst way imaginable.

He grabbed the crowbar harder. The engineer would be at one of the workstations; Burke tried to remember which of them controlled the Hasslein Field generators. Right now, he had no qualms about using brute force on Jones, although it would be preferable if the man stayed conscious to answer a few urgent questions.

The clang of his boots was drowned out by the hum of the ICH couplers that were still generating the plasma for their sublight propulsion, while the HF generators were already firing up in the surrounding ring.

 _Those two systems shouldn't be active at the same time! How did that sonofabitch get them to work in tandem? And_ why _?_

He thought he’d heard Jones muttering when he squeezed through the door, but the man had fallen silent since then; the blue lighting from the corridor had warned him that he was no longer alone. Burke was acutely aware that Jones had the advantage: his eyes were already adjusted to the darkness and he knew the direction from which Burke had to be coming.

_But I have a crowbar, and you have-_

A blinding pain exploded in his groin and knocked the breath out of him. He dimly registered the floor floating up to meet his face as the pain spread to his abdomen, growing in intensity all the time. An invisible hand had reached into his guts, twisting and pulling at his spine. His kidneys were in flames. His ears registered the clang of the crowbar as it slipped from his hand, but his brain was too busy dealing with the incoming damage reports to let him do anything about that information.

Instinct made him roll away, and a second clang informed him that Jones had found the crowbar and had just tried to bash his head in. The magnetic boots anchored him enough to give him a chance at succeeding with that instead of bouncing off from the impact.

_need to get up_

Burke forced himself to unfold and drew himself upright on one of the workstations. His lower abdomen cried out and urged him to stay rolled up in a fetal position, but he had no choice. Jones would use the unfair advantage that his kick in the balls had provided him, and now he was armed.

„That was... a really dick move, Jones,“ Burke wheezed. Jones didn’t answer; the crowbar missed Burke’s head by an inch and cracked the screen of a workstation instead. The panel lit up in alarm like a christmas tree. Burke staggered away, trying to forget that he had genitals and to focus on the armed maniac instead. At least his eyes had adjusted to the dim light by now: he could see that Jones was gripping the crowbar with both hands, his stance betraying uncertainty. After his ambush had failed, he had obviously no clue how to proceed.

That wouldn’t make him less dangerous, Burke knew. Jones would continue to use the greater reach and heightened impact of the metal bar - Burke jerked back to avoid another swing aimed at his head - and sooner or later, he’d get a hit in that would either knock him out cold or cripple him. The man was too desperate to stop now.

„Damn, Jonesy, take it easy,“ he noticed that Jones took care to stay close to one particular workstation, „you don’t want to add murder to your repertoire, right? I mean, sabotage on this scale is bad enough to lock you up for a century, but at least you could hope for an early parole. With my corpse on the bill? Not so likely.“ He was sweating, feeling ill. That feeling would only grow stronger, he knew, until he’d be throwing up all over the computers. Better end this quickly, then.

Burke feinted an attack, keeping his weight on his back foot. Jones reacted by swinging the crowbar violently, aiming at his knee this time. Perhaps he wanted that early parole after all.

Burke moved in again, using his leg to block Jones’ forearm. The impact of the block kicked the arm upwards, while the momentum of Jones’ attack was still carrying him forward. Burke snaked his arm around Jones’ elbow joint and locked it.

Then he kneed him in the stomach.

The crowbar sunk to the floor as Jones doubled over and started to retch. Luckily, he had just come back from an eight hour shift on the bridge and, contrary to Burke, kept strictly to regulations, so it was a dry retch.

Burke hoisted him up and threw him against the HFG controls. „Whatever you’ve done to the machines, stop it.“

Jones was still bent over, holding his stomach. Burke eyed him without compassion. „If it’s any consolation to you, your gut hurts definitely less than my balls.“ He picked up the crowbar. „Now switch off your damn program and unlock the computer.“

Jones weakly shook his head. „This is our only chance to prove that it works,“ he groaned. „The only chance that ANSA will permit more missions using it!“

„We’re not your fucking lab rats, Jones! I don’t wanna be in the vicinity if ‘it’ _doesn't_ work, whatever the hell ‘it’ is!“ Burke frowned. „What is ‘it’, anyway?“ He kept his gaze fixed on the engineer as the man slowly unfolded, ready to strike down any new attack.

But Jones just leaned slightly forward, hands clasped before his chest. „Our salvation, Burke.“ He smiled. „Instant travel to the farthest stars. The new protocol doesn’t form a, a ‘warp bubble’, as you call it. It creates a wormhole!“


	4. Chapter 4

Virdon stared at the readings on his screen that monitored how the Hasslein field generators continued to relentlessly claw at the space around them and warp it, like a child grabbing a piece of cloth and winding it around itself. Just as the spin traveled along the length of the cloth and drew it into an ever tighter spiral, so the distortion now reached several hundred miles ahead of the _Icarus_ ’ bow. It wasn’t strong enough yet to bend light; but Virdon worried that it might already be strong enough to upset Callisto from the orbit he was aiming for.

He had corrected the course, so that the ship would pass the _Hermes_ comm array at a tangent that wouldn't tear the relays apart or hurl them into the moon, but that meant he had to give them such a wide berth that real-time communication would only be possible for a few minutes. Just as well; he didn’t intend to _discuss_ his plan, just to inform mission control why their hopes and dreams were about to die. _Human failure; the technology was impeccable, professor._ Perhaps ANSA’d be given a second chance then - funding for another attempt, this time with more safeguards against human insanity, if such a thing was even possible. Perhaps they’d send an automated ship. _If we can't trust each other, why do we even try to reach other worlds?_

They had reached the range of the Callisto array, last stop before the final outpost at Enceladus. „Mission control, this is the _Icarus_ , do you read?“

„This is ground control, you’re coming through loud and clear, _Icarus_.“

„We have a situation here, ground control.“ He quickly recounted what had happened with Jones. „The numbers remind me somewhat of the tunneling effect of the _Hermes_ relays... but they’re also different enough that it may just be my imagination. In any case, he has compromised more than just the FTL transit programs; I’m unable to shut down the generators from the bridge, command overrides aren’t accepted anymore. He locked everyone out.“

„Do you have him?“ Whoever was on the other end of the line was terse, all business. In the background though, he could hear the faint buzz of frantic voices, the shuffling and bustling of people trying to pull a solution out of the proverbial hat.

„Major Burke is on his tail, but if he can shut down the generators manually in engineering, that has precedence.“

„Of course. In the meantime...“

„I decided to alter the course for our slingshot maneuver around Callisto,“ Virdon cut in, checking the time. „I’m going to enter a polar orbit that will take us out of the system on a course perpendicular to the ecliptic. Whatever happens when that distortion climaxes, we’ll be far above the solar system, so we hopefully won’t upset its gravitational balance or kick a moon in your direction.“

There was a moment of complete silence; with a jolt of panic, Virdon checked their position, but they were still in range of the array. It was just that the men and women back on Earth had realized what he meant.

„The _Icarus_ will be lost out there when that happens.“

Virdon kept his voice flat. „I’m well aware of the implications.“

„We’ll get professor Hasslein here as quickly as possible, Colonel. Perhaps he knows of a way to shut this sonofabitch down. Don’t leave orbit on the far side of Callisto, _Icarus_ \- give us a chance to save you.“

Virdon hesitated. „We don’t know how quickly this thing will escalate, ground control.“

„We’re willing to take that chance.“

„I appreciate that... but I am not. We’ll send you all our data, as long as we’re able to. Please tell my wife...,“ he swallowed, „tell my wife and son that I love them.“

„We will. Godspeed, _Icarus_.“ The comm fell silent.

Virdon’s gaze was fixed on the silent countdown on his screen.

* * *

For a frozen moment, Burke was fighting against the overwhelming urge to laugh. _We've all gone fucking mad._

Maybe all of this wasn’t really happening. Maybe he was already hallucinating. He’d read somewhere that could happen if you went without sleep for too long. Jones was still holding his gaze, a zealot offering redemption by suicide.

„There’s _no way_ you can create an artificial wormhole, “ Burke snapped when he finally found his voice again, „and even _if_ you could, and even _if_ it was stable, that wouldn’t mean anything other than radiation could pass through it! God _dammit,_ Jones! Do I look like a fucking radio signal? What did they teach you in engineering school?“ He grabbed Jones’ collar and dragged him away from the workstation.

Instead of resisting the pull, the man clamped his arms around him and tried to trip him up. Burke stumbled and they fell against another console that beeped a warning. Burke cursed. Their feet tangled and they tumbled to the floor.

„I swear, when this is over, I’ll put you into an EVA suit and keelhaul you! Or maybe I _won’t_ put you into a suit!“ Burke finally managed to struggle free. He came to his feet a second after Jones had jumped up and had again positioned himself protectively in front of the HFG control panel.

„Step away from the damn panel!“

Jones shook his head. „I don’t care that they call it the Hasslein field generator,“ he pleaded. „I don’t care that Hasslein gets all the accolades, that it’ll be his name in the history books. I just want to see it working, Burke. I want us to be able to reach the stars before it’s too late for mankind. Our lives are nothing, if we’re not willing to sacrifice them for something... higher, something profound.“

Burke decided he had wasted enough time with talking. Negotiation wasn’t his strong suit, anyway, and the pain was still building in his groin and made him long for a couch and a pack of ice. „You don’t get to decide what I’m sacrificing my life for, and I sure as hell won’t sacrifice it for your and Hasslein’s pipe dream.“

This time, he didn’t give Jones a chance to ensnare him again. He shoved him into the EM chamber, shut the door in his face and leaned against it for a moment. Right now, he just didn’t feel able to shut down the HFG _and_ to keep Jones in check at the same time.

A different kind of hum made him open his eyes again a moment before the alarm began to blare. Something was wrong with their sublight propulsion system.

Very wrong.

He hobbled over to the EM control panel, while the hum got louder and deeper. Burke glanced at the display and cursed. The temperature of the huge electromagnets that generated the magnetic confinement for the plasma was shooting up and had already surpassed critical levels. _The insulation's melting, we’re all in for a-_

He was slammed into a wall.

A second... must’ve been no longer than a second or two that he was out... the deep, almost subliminal boom was still vibrating in his bones, his teeth. Thick, pungent smoke of burning plastic filled his mouth, made him gag and cough, almost masking the scent of ozone. All around him, blue-white snakes of electricity crawled over walls, screens, casings. Somewhere above his head, a fire was crackling.

_Should've stayed in bed today._

A sudden lightness made him dizzy and worsened his nausea. Burke stared at the crowbar that was lazily floating up from the deck. His body felt weightless, too - only his boots kept him glued to the deck. It took him a moment to put together what had just happened.

_We lost the EPS. No more acceleration..._

The melting insulation of the electromagnets had caused them to shorten out; the magnetic confinement of the plasma coils had broken down.

_Shit._

At least the air wasn’t moving - Jones had been sane enough to leave the automated security systems alone, and the computer had sealed off the engine deck below, or what was left of it.

Jones.

He had locked him into the generator room with the electromagnets. The overheating electromagnets. The _insulation melting_ electro...

 _Do I really want to see this?_ He’d probably have to, if only so he could put it in the log.

 _After_ he had shut down the Hasslein generators. If Jones was injured so badly that he didn’t survive these two minutes, he’d be beyond help anyway. Besides, if he didn’t shut down the damn thing now, they’d all die. And as much as he wanted Jones to be there when that happened...

The HFG controls were dead, too.

For a moment, Burke just stood there, grabbing his scalp, staring at the dark screen.

So this was it. They were hurtling through space uncontrollably, engines dead save for Jones’ diabolical invention that created a fucking _wormhole_ inside the fucking _solar system._

He suddenly felt like fainting - the safety protocols were still working, flooding the control room with carbon monoxide to choke the fire. The realization tore him out of his frozen horror.

He stumbled into the corridor, retrieving his ANSA knife so that the doors could slide shut again and keep the toxic gas inside. If he was going to die, it would be with all his facilities intact, on the bridge, not gassed like a rat in a cage.

And by god, it would be with some ice around his balls.

* * *

 ****Virdon didn’t need the alarms going off all over the ship to know that things just had gone FUBAR a moment ago. If not the sudden jolt, then the need to strap himself into his seat had told him enough. He glanced at his monitors and cursed under his breath. At least the intercom was still working. „Burke! What the hell is going on down there?!“

„The electromagnets shortened out, and without the magnetic confinement, the plasma ripped us a new asshole. Jones is dead.“

Virdon took in that information.

„What about the HFG?“ he asked when he was sure he had his voice under control.

„The control panels are all dead. There was a fire in the engine control room, it’s flooded with CO gas right now. I can suit up and go back in, but I don’t think there’s much I can do - Jones defended his monster baby with a crowbar and fucked up the current-to-pulse settings in the process... I think.“

„You _think?“_

„I didn’t see what happened in that moment, ‘cause I was rolling on the floor, clutching my... never mind.“

Mission control was knocking. Virdon decided that he didn’t want to know what exactly Burke had been clutching and switched channels.

„We saw your alarms go off, _Icarus_. What’s happening up there?“

Virdon sighed a long exhale. „We lost the EPS due to... sabotage, I think. There was an explosion in the engine room that killed our mission specialist. Right now, the ship isn’t maneuverable, which means I’m unable to swing into orbit for the slingshot. We’re continuing with our original speed and trajectory.“

Which would ram them straight into Callisto. There was a moment of silence, as both Virdon and mission control contemplated that gruesome scenario.

„The problem is,“ Virdon continued with a heavy voice, „that the disturbance is still there. Apparently, the field generators are not affected. That means that the anomaly will reach Callisto before us.“ He rubbed his face. „Oh, and the environmental systems are offline, too, not that it matters in the overall scheme of things.“

After a moment of stunned silence, mission control came back. „We have professor Hasslein here now, _Icarus_ -“

But Virdon wasn’t interested in the man’s opinion about their current predicament. From what he had learned from Jones, the scientist was the source of all their troubles. „We have only one way left to shut down the generators - manually cutting the power to the ring, so that’s what we’re going to do. Major Burke and I will get into our EVA suits and use some old-fashioned power drills to separate the _Icarus_ from the HFG...“

„An admirable approach, Colonel, very hands-on,“ a dry voice came in over the intercomm. Virdon felt his jaw clench. Hasslein. „But not failsafe, I’m afraid. If you don’t manage to separate the ring before the disturbance begins to entangle Callisto, the consequences could be dire. Fascinating from a scientific standpoint, certainly, but I’d like to analyze the data without having the sky falling on my head.“

Virdon swallowed, forcing his voice to be as calm and controlled as he could manage. „I’m relieved to hear that you’re also interested in stopping Mr. Jones’ mad project, professor. If you give me the override codes...“

„I don’t have them, Colonel,“ Hasslein interrupted him cooly. „This was Jones’ insane idea, and I can assure you, I have no more knowledge about the details of Mr. Jones’ security measures than you do - and apparently, you have shut down the conversation with him for good.“

„Then what do you suggest?“ Virdon ground out.

„Complete the protocol. Once you jump through the wormhole, it will close behind your ship, and local space around Callisto will be restored to its original properties.“

Virdon leaned forward. „How do you know that disturbance is a wormhole?“

But the scientist didn’t falter for a second. „I’m looking at your data stream, Colonel. It looks exactly like an experiment Mr. Jones and I had been running before he left with the _Icarus_. It’s an educated guess, of course, but under the circumstances, it’s our best shot, wouldn’t you agree?“

_Bastard._

„No, I wouldn’t,“ Virdon said, equally cool. „I still prefer manually dismounting the generator ring to your ‘educated guess’.“

„According to the data you’re sending us, the foremost edge of the wormhole will dip into Callisto’s surface in about twenty minutes. Even if you had a man at every spike of the wheel working at top speed, there wouldn’t be enough time. You may not like it, Colonel, but my proposal _is_ the only solution to our problem.“

As much as he hated to admit it, Hasslein was right. _Icarus_ was hurtling towards Jupiter’s moon at top speed, he had no means to change course or reverse impulse, and time wasn’t on their side.

„There is a not too slim chance you might survive the jump,“ Hasslein said encouragingly. „That would give you the opportunity to repair the EPS and jump back.“

Virdon didn’t bother to reply. Even if they managed to repair the EPS - assuming they could coax life support systems back online -, it couldn’t bring them back, at a fracture of _c_ ; and without their mission specialist, they had no idea how to operate the compromised Hasslein drive.

But at least they wouldn’t be a danger to Earth anymore.

„Very well,“ he managed. „We’ll do it your way.“

„I’m sending you the jump protocol, _Icarus_. Assuming Jones installed a version of our experiment that he had adapted for the _Icarus_ , this should work.“

 _Assuming, sure._ Virdon didn’t buy Hasslein’s feigned ignorance for a second.

A clang behind him announced that Burke had made his way up to the bridge. Virdon shot him a quick glance. „I have good news and bad news for you, Burke.“

Burke snorted. „You have good news? Today?“

Virdon smiled grimly. „Yep - you’ve been spared a space walk with a wrench and a power drill to get rid of the ring.“

Burke eyed him warily. „That’s great news. What’s the bad one?“

Virdon kept his gaze straight at the screen. „We’re going to jump through the wormhole.“

„I’m getting my EVA suit.“

„Sit.“

Burke sank into his seat and winced.

„The Major’s idea is actually very good,“ Hasslein interjected. Virdon flinched; he had forgotten that the man was still listening from the other end of the line. „It could heighten your chances of survival.“

Burke shot up from his seat, pain forgotten. „You! You cooked this up with Jones, and I hope they’ll fry your ass for it!“

„I have no idea what your man is talking about, Colonel.“

„Don’t you deny it! It was your idea to send us down that rabbit hole like some damn lab rats! ANSA would never have greenlighted this, so you just went over everybody’s head, and put ours on the chopping block!“ Burke’s face was red with rage, a vein ticking at his temple.

But Hasslein was infuriatingly smug. „I strongly reject these accusations, Major, and I’d like to point out that your case is paper thin. All you have is the alleged confession of a dead man, and I doubt you have a recording of it. That makes it your word against mine, and as understandable your irrational behavior is under the circumstances...“

„I second Major Burke’s statements, mission control,“ Virdon interrupted. _Make the bastard bleed, ANSA. Please._ „I strongly advise ANSA to investigate the matter.“

Hasslein scoffed. „Have you witnessed Mr. Jones’ ‘confession’ when he made it to the major?“

„I know who to trust out here.“

„Then, I’m afraid...“

Virdon switched off the comm. Silence descended on the bridge. Burke was staring straight ahead.

Virdon called up the jump protocol. „You know what? Do get those EVAs on the bridge. Perhaps we can jump back to kick some ass.“

Burke went without a word. When he came back after a few minutes, his face had returned to its normal color, but he was still withdrawn, his jerky movements betraying simmering anger. They helped each other into their suits and returned to their stations. Virdon took a deep breath, hands hovering over the console.

Before them, Callisto’s pale body filled the screen, its craters reflecting the sunlight like a giant disco ball. The _Icarus_ was no more than a speck of dust hanging in the black void over it, still so far away... surely they couldn’t upset the balance of the solar system with their tiny ship, their tiny wormhole...

But he wouldn’t be the one to test that theory. That wishful thinking. He and Burke were beyond help now, anyway.

Virdon’s heart hammered in his chest. This was like being forced to turn the switch of your own electric chair.

He turned to Burke and stretched out his hand. „It’s been a honor to serve with you, Major.“

He saw Burke’s eyes widen behind his visor. Then the younger man leaned over to clasp his hand. „Thank you, sir. It’s been a honor for me to serve with you, too.“

„All right, let’s get this over with.“ Virdon closed his eyes, then opened them again. He wouldn’t let fear defeat him.

_I shouldn’t have made that promise to you, Chris - I’m so sorry..._

His finger touched the screen.

* * *

„That space was meant for drawing a picture of your stained gel, Chris, not an episode from _Bridge of Stars, “_ Mrs. Martinez murmured as she passed behind his seat.

Chris bit his lip and swiped the scene from his screen. It had been a depiction of the _Icarus_ entering the Alpha Centauri system, but there was no point in correcting his science teacher - she was only interested in crawling critters and test tubes, not the wonders of outer space.

Chris wished he could exchange biology for additional astronomy classes, or coding, or even _math_. He didn’t see the point of learning about bees’ dances when there were virtually no bees around anymore, or learning about the importance of the rainforests - it seemed to him that people had only become aware of those facts after they had burned almost all of them to the ground. And it was just depressing to listen to a litany of species that had supposedly died off since the last time Mrs. Martinez had seen the class.

At least today, their project looked like actual science.

His thoughts returned to the _Icarus_ \- Dad and his crew were approaching Callisto by now, and would use it to accelerate the ship out of the system. Perhaps they had already completed the maneuver. They were heroes, and he was proud that his dad was commanding that ship - the first of its kind - but he kinda wished the mission wouldn’t take so _long._

He listened with half an ear to his teacher’s recap of yesterday’s activities while he doodled their route from Jupiter to Alpha Centauri.

A bubble popped up on his screen and took him out of his reverie.

*is that your dads ship?*

He turned around. Everyone was pretending to be listening to Mrs. Martinez. Nobody smiled or winked or even looked in his general direction.

*who wants to know?*

*wow, you sound really badass right now lol*

*thats his ship* He couldn’t really resist telling them, even if he was annoyed that they didn’t identify themselves. He wondered briefly if Cpt. Harris of the _Stardust-_ why-did-they-have-to-choose-such-a-stupid-name would have answered an anonymous call.

*looks funny*

*thats the hasslein field generators you digger!* That was the insult the spacefarers from _BoS_ had coined for the planet dwellers; Chris planned to live on a spaceship when he was older. _He_ wouldn’t dig in the dirt of any planet, if he could help it.

„Everyone please get your electrophoresis apparatus. Make sure the comb is in place, one comb near the black electrode, and that there are stoppers at both ends of the gel space.“

Chris hung back - staring at a blubbering, crawling gel wasn’t his idea of entertainment, and he could wait until the throng of overachievers at the shelves had thinned out. He was one of the last students to get his stuff.

„I knew that.“ Gina Lombardi didn’t look at him as she grabbed her equipment. „And don’t call me digger, you shit-floater,“ she added over her shoulder as she went back to her place.

Another Bridger! Yes, the show was popular with lots of people, but Gina? He’d never known! Chris fought hard to keep the grin from his face. If he played it cool now, perhaps they could watch the next episodes together... perhaps even go to BridgeCon together... He grabbed his apparatus and his test tubes and returned to his place, desperately trying to come up with a badass comeback to her hardcore digger insult.

She saved him by chatting him up as soon as he put the thing down. „I saw the lift-off in the livestream. You must be pretty proud of your dad.“

„I’ll fly a ship just like that one day,“ he blurted out. So much for playing it cool. Well done, floater!

But Gina smiled, so perhaps he hadn’t blown it yet. „That sounds awesome. I want to be a chef later.“

„My mom can’t cook if her life depended on it.“ That’s what Dad always said, because it made her laugh. And then he’d cook. Chris chewed on his lip. Better not think about that right now.

He had an idea. „We could use a chef on board.“ He avoided looking at her by pouring agarose into the gel box. „Finally no more freeze-dried protein bars.“

Gina laughed. She had a really pretty laugh. „Forget the Michelin stars, I have the real ones!“

Chris grinned. He had made her laugh. It was a nice feeling, somehow... bubbly. „Perhaps you’ll get your own show - ‘The Chef in Space.’“

„Chris Virdon?“

Chris looked up to see the school counselor standing in the door, his face dead serious. His heart dropped somewhere into the vicinity of his feet.

_Mom..._

The baby wasn’t due for another month yet - had she gotten premature contractions? He had read up on the stuff, now that he was the only family she had left. His heart had found its way back into his chest and was now hammering like crazy against his ribs as he made his way to the door.

He didn’t even wait until it had closed behind him. „Is something wrong with my mom? Or the baby?“

„They're both fine; I’ll drive you to the hospital...“

„So she did come too early? But she’s okay?“ He took a few steps down the corridor before he noticed that Mr. Forrester hadn’t moved. His eyes were sad.

No. That wasn’t sadness. It was pity.

Chris felt his chest and arms go numb. It was a strange feeling, and it took him a moment to identify it as dread. „Aren’t you coming?“

„I’d like us to go by my office first...“

„No!“ The numbness was gone, replaced by a prickling sensation all over his hands and arms. „Tell me now! _What's wrong?“_

And then Mr. Forrester told him, in the corridor, and all the bubbly feelings seeped out of him, until only an icy numbness remained, as cold and black as the void between the stars.


	5. Chapter 5

**????, Wherever The Hell This Is**

Burke couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _move_ , the air around him was closing in, his arms and legs weighed a ton-

Panic snapped through him, setting his limbs on fire as if he was touching Jones’ charged lock again.

_Told ya, Jones... nothing but radiation..._

The world came slowly swinging back into existence, together with an overwhelming sensation of heat and nausea. They were smashing through the atmosphere, lighting up like a piece of debris and he was hot... so hot... burning up in his EVA, boiling in his own sweat-

He jerked up again, in panic and pain, dropping out of his seat and falling, falling, flailing...

... hitting the ground.

Cool ground, smooth ground. Cool and smooth against his hot face. The overwhelming pressure remained, sitting on his back now, flattening him against the soil.

Soil...

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him on his back. „Whoa, slowly there.“

Virdon’s voice.

Burke pushed him away, turned his head and threw up, all bile and slime; his last meal had been ages ago. The bitter taste filled his mouth and made him gag again.

„Knocked your head pretty hard, huh?“ He felt the rim of a cup on his lips and swallowed a mouthful of cool, sweet water. „You have a nice concussion,“ Virdon continued. „Gotta take it really slow.“

He wasn’t falling into a black hole. That pressure was gravity, back in full force after months of the ship’s low _g_ , and his weakened muscles were fighting to move his ribs. Burke felt dizzy, out of breath. Damn reentry, and they had come down spectacularly...

... he guessed. Burke frowned and held his aching head. He couldn’t remember much after they had jumped into Hasslein’s wormhole, a thing that had only been visible on their screens.

Burke sat up slowly, still holding his skull. He had bumped his head more than once in the pursuit of his more crazy hobbies, and knew that the light was going to stab him like a bitch once he opened his eyes. But when he gingerly cracked them open, it was mercifully dark. Weak, yellow light flickered from somewhere outside his vision... firelight. He cautiously craned his neck to take in his surroundings. Shadows were dancing in his field of vision, whether from the fire or from his concussion, he couldn’t say.

Slowly his eyes regained focus and the shadows coalesced into plants. Lots of them. Burke rubbed his blurry eyes and looked again.

They were surrounded by jungle.

He was sitting on the naked floor of a hut - not really a hut, just a mounted roof; no walls, though he wished for one to lean against -, a hammock dangling beside his head. So that had been the swinging motion that had made him seasick... he’d fallen out of it when he thought he was dying on the _Icarus_. Speaking of which...

Burke licked his dry lips and tried to swallow, but his tongue was sticky and swollen and his voice just a whisper from his still parched throat. „What _is_ this place?“

Virdon offered him the bowl with water again, and he gratefully accepted. „I’m just a couple of minutes ahead of you, so I don’t know, either. We were both unconscious when these people dragged us out of the ship and brought us to their camp.“

„It’s a miracle she made it to the ground in one piece,“ Burke croaked. „How are we even still alive?“

„Thanks to my superior piloting skills, of course,“ Virdon joked. Then he sobered. „And thanks to whoever insisted on her having wings for emergency maneuvers in atmosphere. I remember the fights they were having over this, the bureaucrats insisting that she’d never fly in an atmosphere anyway, because of the ring; and of course there were always budget cuts...“ He shook his head. „I’ll keep that unknown engineer in my prayers, that’s for sure.“

Burke emptied his bowl and wished for an aspirin to go with the water. „So who are these people? Our first aliens?“

Virdon rubbed his chin, hesitating. „See for yourself,“ he said and dragged Burke to his feet. The dizziness hit him with full force again and Burke had to grab one of the beams to steady himself. His legs were shaking.

 _And to think I used to run marathons..._ this phase was what he hated most about his job. He glanced to his commander who looked pale and sweaty, and not too sure on his feet, either. „Look at us proud explorers, eh, Columbus?“

Virdon didn’t answer, just nodded at the campfire outside their hut.

The fire didn’t really illuminate the site; its flickering light created jumping shadows, and Burke felt his nausea returning. He tried to make out the shapes of the aliens among the shadows, and after a few seconds, his brain caught up with him and formed the fragments of light and dark into a group of people gathering around a fireplace.

They looked like humans. The fact that they didn’t wear much except paint and loincloths made it easy to determine that they didn’t have extra limbs - or boobs - though of course their skin could still be green... it was hard to tell in this light. Burke felt at once slightly disappointed and intrigued, because what was the chance that some planet somewhere in the galaxy had developed life that looked exactly like them?

One of them turned their head to look at them, firelight catching in their eyes.

They glowed green like those of a cat.

Burke blew a voiceless whistle. „Nope - definitely not Kansas anymore. Do you think we found the planet of the body snatchers?“

„Lots of animals have a tapetum lucidum, Burke,“ Virdon whispered; he was short of breath, too. „It could be just an adaptation to their environment.“

„But they have fire,“ Burke pointed out. „They don’t need to adapt to the darkness.“

„Perhaps they only mastered it recently - evolution does take some time to catch up to that. I don’t think...“ Virdon broke off. One of the glowing pair of eyes was moving towards them. Burke felt for his ANSA knife and whispered a surprised curse. The knife was gone.

He let his hand drop with a sigh when the owner of the glowing eyes turned out to be a woman. A young woman. A young, _pretty_ woman with straight black hair down to her hips, wearing nothing but a leather skirt - a longer version of the men’s loincloth - and lots of beads. And a shy smile, as she held up her hands in the universal gesture of peace. Burke felt relieved... and ashamed that he was happy that a girl reassured him she wouldn’t kick his ass. Damn low _g_ exposure.

„We come in peace,“ Burke muttered to himself, „please don’t hurt us.“ He huffed a silent laugh.

The woman reacted to his voice and drew closer. She began talking to them in a rapid chatter that didn’t sound like anything Burke had ever heard. He held up a hand. „No, wait a sec, babe...“

She fell silent, frowning at the sound of his voice, or the unknown sounds he was making. Burke smiled wryly. „Yeah, exactly. Why don’t we start with something simple? My name... is...,“ he pointed at himself, _„Burke.“_

The shy smile returned as she tried to pronounce his name. „Burr-ke.“

Burke found himself smiling back at her against his will, and was suddenly aware of the dried sweat stiffening his uniform. He had to be reeking. „Hi. Can you point me to the showers... and the, uh, facilities? Nature’s calling... yeah, you got a lot of nature here...“

The girl’s smile wavered a bit under the onslaught of so many unknown words, but then she seemed to remember that they weren’t finished with the introductions. She pointed to herself. „Ehpah.“

His bladder had to wait.

„Ehpah. This is my friend Virdon.“ He turned to his commander. „Very nice of these people to send us such a pretty liaison.“

„Let's stay out of trouble, for once,“ Virdon said from the corner of his mouth while he smiled and nodded at Ehpah. „It wouldn’t be smart to provoke them, especially not in our situation.“

„Don’t worry, I can barely keep _myself_ upright...“

„Was that meant to reassure me?“

Burke was spared an answer, because Ehpah beckoned them to follow her to a campfire that wasn’t currently occupied, which he was glad for - the few steps were difficult, like wading through molasses, and he broke down at the fire instead of crouching down as he had planned. Damn muscle atrophy. Virdon lowered himself to the ground beside him, only slightly more controlled. How many weeks until they’d be back in shape, without all those doctors and trainers ANSA’d hurl at them?

Ehpah joined them, carrying a bundle that she had retrieved from somewhere, probably her own hut. She knelt down by the fire and loosened the leather string that held it together: a number of hollow nuts like the one they had used as a water bowl appeared, their lids bound with bast fibres, as well as several leaf packages that were secured with thorns. Burke eyed them with distrust.

„I really don’t feel like eating right now, princess... and it’s too early for breakfast and too late for dinner, anyway...“

Virdon reached for a leaf package. „These people are nocturnal, Burke - that tapetum lucidum is a dead giveaway. For her, it’s probably early morning. So it _is_ time for breakfast.“

It was... a mixed bag, literally. Some things were clearly plants - they tasted rather bland, and starchy, but seemed to be relatively safe bets to Burke, despite their alarming colors; other things _could_ have been rice... or something else that he didn’t dare to think about.

And then there were the maggots. Jesus Christ, the maggots! They were as long as his index finger, fat like two of his fingers held together, with the typical lovely off-white color that maggot gourmets all over the world regarded as a sign of high quality... _And I thought natto was bad. I swear, they just serve that stuff to screw with the tourists._

Burke tried to school his features into a poker face for Ehpah’s sake, and offered his find to Virdon. „You have the higher rank, so the best parts are yours!“

Virdon’s nostrils flared for a moment when he saw what Burke was shoving in his face; then his eyes flicked to Ehpah, and he took the package without a word and popped the things into his mouth. Burke stared with horrified fascination as Virdon swallowed heavily. „Well, good thing they were cooked,“ he said with false cheer. „You swallowed them whole.“

Virdon coughed. „It’s protein,“ he managed, a little hoarsely. „And it didn’t really taste much of anything. Just imagine you’re eating shrimp.“

Burke nodded. „I’ll keep that in mind.“ Carefully, he selected another bundle that promised more of the vividly colored, tasteless tubers.

Virdon followed his example. He turned his find in his fingers, then held it closer to the flames for a better look. „This looks a bit like a turnip.“ He took a bite. „But tastes like... like cauliflower.“ He chewed thoughtfully. „It does taste a bit like turnip, too...“

Burke made a noncommittal sound and got up. „Gotta greet mother nature.“

Virdon raised a brow. „What, now?“

„Well, it was a long flight.“

The truth of the matter was that his balls were still tender, and he’d probably have to relieve his bladder more often than usual for the next days because of Jones’ girl kick, but there were things that your commanding officer didn’t need to know about.

When he returned after a few moments, a young man had joined them; he was talking to Ehpah, but his voice and body language weren’t exactly friendly. Burke instantly disliked the guy, and not just because he was tearing into their pretty liaison. He had the eyes of a weasel. Come to think of it, he also had the build of a...

Virdon’s hand clamped around his arm like a vise. „Now is not the time to pick a fight,“ he warned in a low voice.

„He’s got _my knife! “_ Burke hissed.

„And you’ll get it back, later. Right now, other things are more important than your pride, so _stand down. “_

Slowly, Virdon released his arm, ready to grab him again, if necessary. The weasel was staring at Burke now, ignoring Ehpah’s heated reply to whatever he had thrown in her face earlier. His hand moved to the ANSA knife, and a slow grin spread over his face. Burke clenched his fists and smiled back. That guy would get wise, or get the ass-kicking of his life. Or perhaps he’d get both. Burke was always willing to dish out wisdom to those in need.

Virdon came clumsily to his feet and dragged Burke up with him. „I’d say we call it a night... or day. We could use some rest.“ With a nod and smile to Ehpah, he turned and pulled Burke towards their hut. _Always the diplomat,_ Burke thought groggily. But Virdon was right - with his atrophied muscles and brittle bones, he wouldn’t stand a chance against the guy. He stumbled along with numb and heavy legs, feeling utterly exhausted. How long had it been since he woke up? Five minutes, fifty? He couldn’t say.

Virdon didn’t let go of his arm until they were back under their own roof; probably more out of exhaustion than worry that Burke would break away and go after the weasely guy after all. „I’ll see if I can refill that bucket somewhere,“ he said, slightly out of breath. „We need to rehydrate.“

„Hm.“ Burke leaned against one of the beams and closed his eyes. His head was still throbbing - perhaps it really came from dehydration. He longingly thought of Earth; even if they’d busted the mission, he’d be in a hospital now with a nice physiotherapist at his bedside... a nice _female_ physiotherapist ... He sighed and opened his eyes again.

„Damn, that’s a huge moon they have,“ he murmured after a moment. „Almost as big as ours, and I thought that’s pretty rare.“

Virdon was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was rough and his tone was... strange. „Yes, a lot like our moon,“ he rasped. „I can see the _Mare Imbrium. “_

Burke shot him an incredulous look, but Virdon’s face was hidden in the shadows. „What?“

Virdon gestured at the satellite hanging over the treeline like a big lantern. „ _Mare Imbrium_. And there’s the _Mare Tranquilitatis. “_ He pointed. _„Mare Crisium_...“

Burke stared back at the moon, and just like it had done before, his brain jolted the shadows into familiar shapes. „Yeah, I see it, too... there’s the Copernicus crater... and there’s Aristarchus....“ His voice trailed off.

Suddenly he had to turn away, laughing, incredulous. _„Shit!“_ He shook his head, still unable to believe his own eyes, turned back, stared at the moon again, finding all the familiar features. „So... we’re still in Kansas, after all? With _them? “_ He gestured vaguely towards the campfires.

„I don’t know...“ Virdon said absently, his attention still riveted at the moon.

„So we... we’re back on Earth? But where? Did they ever discover a jungle tribe with glowing eyes?“ For a moment, Burke was absolutely certain that they _had_ passed the event horizon of the black hole... wormhole... and that his brain was creating this bizarre scenario in a last desperate neural storm to distract him from the fact that he was being torn apart into his atoms.

Virdon scanned the sky. „These are constellations of the Northern hemisphere.“ He pointed. „Cassiopeia. There’s Polaris.“ He stretched out his arms and did some quick fist-over-fist calculation. „We’re roughly at 30 degrees latitude. That’d be... Georgia. Or Shanghai. Egypt. Not in the tropical zone, in any case. Subtropical, yes. But there aren’t areas remote enough in that zone that such an unusual type of humans would stay undetected.“ He scratched his head. „It all doesn’t add up.“

„Yeah, no shit.“ Burke glanced at his commanding officer, who looked every inch as sweaty and exhausted as him. „You know, this place is not as advertised. Let’s go home and sue the travel agency.“

Virdon finally tore his gaze away from the sky and stumbled into the hut, the water bucket forgotten. He lowered himself into his hammock with a grunt. „Agreed. We’ll make a call first thing in the morning. Or as soon as we find our ship.“

Burke turned after him and stared. „You don’t know where the _Icarus_ is?“

He heard Virdon cough in the darkness. „I was unconscious just like you, remember? I have no idea where she is.“

* * *

Virdon woke with a start; whether from the noise of the jungle birds, the scratching sensation in the back of his parched throat, or the already suffocating heat, he couldn’t say. Maybe it had been a combination of everything. When he stepped out from under the roof of their hut, the sun had already climbed over the treeline. He tugged at the collar of his uniform - the day would still get even hotter.

The campfires had burned down to embers and were already covered; his morning was these people’s evening, just as he had speculated. Only a few people were still about, staring openly at him... and at Burke, who sat at their campfire from the night before, chewing on one of the starchy roots that he had filed as „safe“ and chatting up a smiling Ehpah, mostly with gestures. By whatever consensus, the woman had been selected as their guide - or warden - and Burke had lost no time to hit on her. Virdon suppressed a sigh. This could go well, or horribly wrong, but at the moment, Burke hadn’t crossed any lines yet, so he decided to let it slide for now.

„We’re out of coffee, but I told Ehpah to save some maggots for you,“ Burke greeted him with a sly grin. The woman, hearing her name, beamed at him, and Virdon couldn’t help but smile back.

„How considerate of you, but I’m not hungry... just thirsty.“ He lowered himself to the ground with a slight groan and reached for the water jug. It looked a bit like a coconut, but was about three times as big. He emptied it in one go and held it up to Ehpah, intending to ask for more water, but then an idea struck him. „What’s the name of this?“ He knocked against the empty shell. „Name?“

Ehpah frowned, but quickly caught on. She knocked against the nut, like he had done before. _„Cuca.“_

 _„Cuca,“_ Virdon repeated. It even sounded like „coco“ - maybe it was a mutation? Like these people’s eyes? By daylight, their eyes looked normal enough.

„So,“ Burke said briskly, „when d’you think they’ll take us to their leader?“

Virdon chewed on a tuber, using it as an excuse to think about his question. „Who says they have one?“ he said finally. „Not every society is organized like that. I think if they had a leader, they’d already have presented us to him last night.“

Burke frowned. „You mean they already invented democracy? Before they discovered the wheel?“

Virdon shrugged. „I don’t think they have a democracy, US style, but they seem to be pretty egalitarian. Maybe they just have certain people whose advice is highly respected, who... _suggest_ how things should be handled. We’ll find out sooner or later.“

„I’m not an anthropologist. The only thing _I_ want to find is the _Icarus, “_ Burke grumbled, „and better sooner than later. I miss my morning coffee.“

„Finding the ship is top priority, no worries,“ Virdon assured him, „but right now, we’re in a... not so advantageous position. We were both unconscious when these people dragged us out of the wreck, so neither of us has the slightest idea where she is - or how far away. And we have no equipment; I mean, we could probably survive in the jungle for some time under normal circumstances, but I’ve spotted some strange mutations around here, and there’s just too many variables to run off blindly...“

„So what’s your plan?“ Burke didn’t look happy. Flirting with Ehpah had apparently just been a distraction for him.

„We need these people’s cooperation,“ Virdon thought aloud. „They know where the ship is, they can help us with equipment and supplies, and they seem to be friendly, or they wouldn’t have helped us in the first place. The biggest obstacle is the language, so learning enough of it to get our point across is our task. We need the time anyway,“ he added when he saw Burke’s expression. „We need to regain our strength. That low _g_ exposure has done quite a number on our muscles. And you’ve already developed a... _connection_ to our liaison, I couldn’t help but notice.“

„Yeah, well, I’m neither blind nor dead,“ Burke muttered. Then his gaze sharpened at something behind Virdon’s back. Virdon turned around to follow his gaze.

A little boy, no older than perhaps ten, had snuck up on them with the natural stealth of all little creatures. He froze under their stares like deer caught in the headlight, then broke into a huge grin and pointed at Virdon’s head.

Virdon imitated the gesture with a smile, pointing to his own head. „What is it you find so interesting?“

Encouraged by his response, the boy made another step towards him and took a strand of blond hair between thumb and forefinger. He rubbed it between his fingers, careful not to tear at Virdon’s scalp, an expression of wonder on his face. Then he looked into Virdon’s eyes again, smiled and said something in his language.

„What a gentleman,“ Burke scoffed. „He even asked permission!“

The boy held a strand of his own hair towards Virdon. „And he offers the same courtesy to me,“ Virdon commented and politely let the hair glide through his fingers.

Satisfied with their mutual introductions, the boy pointed at his own chest. „Iro,“ then pointed to Virdon.

„Ask him about his favourite bar,“ Burke suggested as Virdon introduced himself.

Instead, Virdon pointed to Burke. „Jester.“

„Hey!“

Iro smiled and repeated, „Hwerdonn... Shestah.“

„No, nono!“ Burke straightened a bit and pointed at himself. „Burke.“

Iro grinned and repeated, „Shestah!,“ then bowled over with laughter.

„Seems you found your match, Pete,“ Virdon grinned.

Burke slumped down again and bit into his tuber. „I’ll get back at you for that.“

Iro hunkered down beside Virdon, took another tuber from Burke’s leaf package, peeled it with his teeth and fingers, much faster than either of the men, and started to chat up Virdon while he munched on it. Virdon listened, amused, and made the boy show him - slowly - how to peel another tuber.

„Already cultivating your asset?“ Burke smiled wryly. „Too bad we don’t understand a word he says.“ He held up a tuber. „Hey, champ - what’s the name of this?“

Iro just glanced at him, grinned, „Shes-tah!“ and broke into a cackle.

„Okay, I give up,“ Burke shook his head. „I have no talent with kids.“

Virdon huffed a laugh. „You give up too easily. After you’ve walked miles and miles in circles in your living room with a colicking baby on your shoulder, nothing will shake your patience, believe me.“

Burke shrugged. „I guess you have to be born that way.“

Virdon held up his tuber to Iro. „Virdon says - tuber,“ he said slowly, exaggerating the last word. „Iro says?“

The boy stared at him, mischief in his eyes. Then he visibly restrained his clownish urges and pointed to the root. „ _Chrook_.“ The word had a harsh, guttural sound that they both had trouble reproducing, which greatly entertained the little guy.

„I think I’ll stick with Ehpah for the language lessons,“ Burke grumbled at the giggling Iro. „She’s a lot nicer than you.“ He smiled a bit tiredly at the young woman who had discreetly retreated into the background while they were eating. She smiled back, a bit unsure, but came back at his inviting wave and graciously knelt down at their little fire. She tried to shoo the boy away, but Iro crossed his arms in defiance, skidded closer to Virdon, sat up and made an expectant face.

Ehpah sighed, Burke snorted, and while Virdon put his arm around Iro’s shoulder in camaraderie, Ehpah demonstratively turned to Burke and held up the tuber. „ _Chrook_.“ She looked determined, and Virdon had to suppress a laugh at Burke’s wary expression.

To nobody’s surprise, that first lesson was doomed from the start. Iro was competing with Ehpah for Virdon’s attention, clearly determined to have this exciting new friend for himself. He had also, unfortunately, latched onto the idea that they’d bond over making fun of Burke, laughing wildly at every mistake he made.

Ehpah, apparently sensing Burke’s growing irritation and getting a bit annoyed herself, finally put her foot down, after which the boy settled down and even started introducing new words himself. When he helped Burke with an especially difficult sound without mocking him, he got a pat on the back from Virdon; after that little praise, he doubled his efforts to be helpful to Burke, who shot Virdon a wry glance. „So, you’re good with kids, huh?“

Virdon grinned. „Timing is everything.“

„Just be careful that he doesn’t strap himself to your back all day,“ Burke warned. „I don’t think I have the patience to have him around all the time.“

Virdon shrugged and ruffled Iro’s hair. „He’s a nice little guy. Reminds me a bit of Chris.“ The memory sent a little stab through his chest. They had survived against all odds - maybe he could make true on his promise to his son after all.

Iro didn’t let him dwell on his memories of Chris for too long - the boy was dragging at his arm and chatting excitedly: he clearly wanted him to go somewhere to show him something. For a moment, Virdon resisted the pull; the weakness in his limbs made him long for his hammock.

Then reason won out. They needed to get back in shape as quickly as possible, and the only way to achieve that was to keep moving those muscles. So he struggled to his feet and allowed the boy to drag him away. Iro said something to Ehpah, who raised her brows and rose to join them, urging Burke along.

„What’s bitten him?“ Burke looked less than enthusiastic as he dragged his feet after them.

They had walked only a short distance through the jungle, which had surprisingly light undergrowth, when the trees gave way to a softly sloping path lined with thorny shrubs at both sides. Burke let out a whistle when they rounded the last bend.

A wide body of water stretched before them. Virdon recalled that he had seen an ocean when they had entered the atmosphere - he had desperately tried to steer the _Icarus_ close to the coast to try for a splashdown. He hadn’t made it, but only by a hair’s breadth, apparently.

He could see land on the other side of the water, though, so this wasn’t the ocean proper, but more a bay, or a river delta. In any case, it would serve them well in lieu of physiotherapy. He shared a grin with Burke, who was already stripping out of his uniform, and sat down to pull off his boots.

Ehpah came back from the shore with dripping hands. She showed them the plants she was carrying - a kind of seaweed - and made rubbing gestures at her arms and face.

„She’s smart, eh?“ Burke said and took the algae from her. „Brought us soap.“

„I’d say she just smelled you,“ Virdon replied dryly. „Nobody could miss us three miles against the wind.“

„Perhaps she’ll get us some real food in the meantime. I'm hungry.“ Burke was already on his way to the waterline. Virdon just shook his head and followed him. But Burke was right - for a people that lived so close to the water, their food choices were strangely limited - the maggots really seemed to have been the best parts, judging from what Virdon had seen at the campfires that morning.

He forgot about it as soon as he waded into the bay. The water was divine... soft, cool, draining all the excess heat that had built up under his uniform from his body. He stayed close to the shore and began to scrub himself with Ehpah’s seaweed. It secreted a slimy substance when crushed that, to his delight, cleaned as well as soap.

He looked up in alarm when Iro cried out in fear and pointed at something in the water; he half expected to see a shark fin cutting through the waves. A moment later, he realized what had scared the boy: Burke was far out in the water, taking a swim. Iro’s cries took on a new level of alarm, and Ehpah joined him; Virdon suddenly realized that they thought Burke would go under any moment now.

These people couldn’t swim.

It was amazing - how could a tribe that lived near the water not have mastered that element? It could only mean that they hadn’t lived here originally; they had to have migrated to the bay only recently.

Virdon dropped that line of thought for more immediate concerns. „I’ll get him, I’ll get him,“ he tried to calm down their new acquaintances, „don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing.“ He turned and started to crawl out to where Burke was frolicking in the water.

„You shouldn’t swim out so far,“ he gasped when he finally reached him, „you don’t know the currents, and you’re not as fit as you used to be. Besides, you’re scaring our new friends.“

„Oh no,“ Burke cried in mock concern, „I scared the little jerk? _Help, help, I can't swim...“_ He splashed around wildly and vanished underwater.

He didn’t come up again.

Virdon searched for Iro back on the shore - the boy’s eyes were huge, his mouth hanging open. „It’s okay,“ Virdon shouted back at him and Ehpah, and waved, „he’s okay, he’s just diving... swimming underwater...“ He gave up and dove down himself, trying to see where his immature subordinate was hiding so that he could force him to resurface.

When he did finally see him, Virdon had already resurfaced himself - and Burke had already reached the shore, shouting something Virdon couldn’t hear over the sound of the waves. He crawled back towards the beach, exhaustion already slowing his movements; they’d have to implement a vigorous training routine if they didn’t want to stay here for months.

Burke turned to him as soon as he felt the ground under his feet. He was livid. „Those bastards stole our uniforms!“

„Who? Iro?“ Virdon scanned the beach in both directions. No uniforms anywhere. „I doubt Ehpah would’ve allowed him to...“

Burke sniffed and ran a hand over his scalp to press the water from his hair. „They’re _both_ gone,“ he pointed out. „We can’t run around stark naked, Al - it’s getting a bit too windy down there for my taste!“

Virdon felt his unease grow in leaps, but not for reasons of decency. They had been brought to this place unconscious, and the first thing these people had done was to take away Burke’s knife; now they had taken everything else. If running through the jungle without supplies and equipment would have been a dangerous and difficult undertaking before, now it had become virtually impossible. They had both undergone survival training, but they hadn’t been asked to survive naked and without any tools.

Two people came running down the path - Ehpah and Iro. Their faces, gestures, and voices when they reached him and Burke all expressed regret and guilt, but when Virdon asked them about their own clothes, they just shrugged and avoided his eyes. He couldn’t tell if they had taken away their uniforms themselves, or were just covering for whoever had done it.

„Damn, Ehpah, it’s nice that you brought our uniforms to the drycleaner, but look at that, you’ve shrunk them,“ Burke muttered when she offered them a leather strip that the men of the tribe were wearing as loincloths. „But hey, it’s better than nothing, right?“ Virdon looked up from the same garment in his hand in time to catch Burke’s wink. „I always wanted to gird my loins, Al. Seems I got my wish.“

Virdon slowly began to wrap the leather piece around his hips. He wasn’t amused. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure anymore that this tribe was friendly towards them - or that Ehpah or Iro could be viewed as allies.

They had to learn their language as quickly as possible. If you wanted to beat your enemy, you had to understand him first.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Burke stilled for a moment, not moving save for a gentle wave of his arms to hold his position at the deepest point of the lagoon. He was floating several feet deep in the cold, soft water, enjoying the silence and solitude under the surface. The bay was the single highlight of this freak place they were stuck in, and he and Virdon had spent every moment they could spare in there, using the water's resistance to rebuild their strength.

It was also a nice retreat. None of these people could swim, as far as Burke could tell, and he used that advantage to escape his watchers whenever the feeling of being the main attraction of a zoo became too overwhelming. They didn't like it, but since he always returned, they had come to grudgingly allow him his vacations from the world.

He looked up to the surface, where the sun seemed to swing lazily on the waves. He'd have to emerge soon - he could already feel the pressure building in his lungs and throat. He held out as long as possible, though, aware of how much he loathed to return to that world; they had already spent too much time here. Virdon hadn't given up on the thought that he'd be able to win the tribe's help with returning to their ship so they could send a distress signal to ANSA, which for some reason still hadn't shown up to collect them. So far, Burke had been unsuccessful in convincing him that Ehpah's people had no intention to help them.

He shot upwards with a flick of his legs, broke the surface, and inhaled deeply. The sun was burning hot on his scalp and shoulders, and he was blinded by the light reflecting off the waves. After a moment, Burke's eyes found the outlet of the creek that made up one of the many arms of the delta; several women were busy there, probably collecting water. The tribe wasn't as nocturnal as Virdon had predicted, which deepened Burke's suspicion that their glowing eyes weren't the result of natural evolution.

Maybe Ehpah would be there, too.

He needed to return to that spot anyway; he had planned to harvest some mussels for dinner, to avoid the maggots. For some reason, he could stomach mussels, but not maggots, although they weren't that different, culinary-wise. At least that's what Virdon had claimed. Burke hadn't eaten a single maggot to date, and had no plans to change that.

Burke waded to the shore and grabbed the bucket. The mussels lay half-buried in the sand under the shallow water of the shoreline; fine silt squidged between his toes as he slowly walked upstream, one eye on the ground, one towards the group of women who pretended to ignore him. He didn't see Ehpah, and felt his mood drop a bit; perhaps he had missed her? Or perhaps she hadn't yet come down to the river, in which case, his bucket was only half full... he was justified to linger.

His bucket was almost full when she finally appeared from under the banana trees (they weren't bananas, but Burke had decided that if the botanists of old could name things in foreign parts however they liked, he damn well could, too), balancing two pots on a yoke that would weigh a ton when full. It was a damn shame that the women had to do all the heavy lifting around here, but everyone seemed to be okay with it.

Well, his mom had taught him different. _„Maghe dah, Ehpah,"_ Burke greeted her as he hauled his bucket over to her. She slipped the yoke off her shoulders and smiled back at him, and the sun suddenly burned hotter on his back.

„Hello, Burrke."

„No, no - we learn _your_ language, Ehpah. Virdon don't like you speak our." His grasp of the language still wasn't as good as he'd have liked to, and by far not as good as Virdon's, but he could get across his meaning. Ehpah still made her sentences simple for his sake.

Ehpah shook her head. „Virrdon is not here," she said cooly. „ _Dogde_ _mahn."_

Burke wasn't sure what _dogde_ meant, but „mahn" was Ehpah's and Iro's adaptation from English „man," and they combined it with any number of words from their own language to describe people regardless of gender. And sometimes even things. Burke sighed. They were creating a pidgin without meaning to. „Shh, don't say that about Virdon. He's an _okay guy_." He couldn't help but slipping back into English all the time, so perhaps it was unavoidable.

Ehpah pursed her lips, considering, then nodded generously. „ _Aah,_ Virrdon is an _oh-ke mahn."_ She shot him a sly glance. „Burrke is a _tawn mahn."_

 _Tawn_ meant „good," but from the way Ehpah smirked and some of the other women started giggling, Burke suspected it had some _additional_ meanings. He couldn't be sure, though. „Yeah, I'm a good guy," he ventured, „I'm glad you think so."

Someone snorted and said something under her breath to Ehpah as the group departed for the camp. Roaring laughter erupted once again after the women had vanished into the greenery. Burke turned to Ehpah who had gone slightly pink and was biting her lip to keep her grin in check. She avoided his gaze as she leaned down to scoop water with her bucket.

„Somehow I get the feeling you aren't teaching me everything."

Ehpah frowned, understanding him perfectly although he had said it in English. She was learning his language faster than he was learning hers. Damn. „I teach you well."

„Of course you do, princess," Burke hastily assured her. „Ehpah is a good teacher, uhm, _tawn... pa-ahl?"_ He wasn't sure he remembered the word right.

Ehpah snorted with laughter, and Burke remembered that he still didn't know the connotations of _tawn._ It wasn't really fair of Ehpah to start with the double entendres when he wasn't yet able to tease her back. Time to change the subject.

„Ehpah, tell me... how we come here."

Ehpah sighed deeply. „Again?"

Burke smiled and gave her his deepest, most soulful look. „I hurt my head. I don't remember."

„I told you so often. We heard a loud wind in the sky, and we saw a big light falling down. Then the Dreaming Man-"

„A light like the sun?" Burke interrupted her.

Ehpah shrugged. „A bit like the sun."

„But it didn't go down where the sun goes down?"

Ehpah bent her knees to slip the yoke over her shoulders, and straightened with a jolt. The filled nut bowls swayed gently at her sides. She didn't meet Burke's gaze. „I don't remember." She turned away and marched off towards the camp.

„Yeah, y'all suffer from sudden memory loss when it comes to that little detail," Burke murmured as he stared after her. She really had a nice butt.

 _Focus, Pete._ He bent down to pick up his bucket with the mussels and slowly followed Ehpah up the path to the camp, trying to clamp down on his frustration.

Virdon was lying in his hammock; Iro was nowhere to be seen, thank god. Burke dropped the bucket at their cooking fire and went to snack on a tuber in the meantime. They were hard like twigs when raw, but if you chewed on them long enough, they were manageable, and he was hungry. He was almost always hungry now. „Any luck with the boy?"

Virdon swung his legs to the floor and picked up one of their nut bowls - Ehpah had called them _cuca_ s - in which he'd boil the mussels. Clams. Whatever. „I think their shaman has made that information taboo. Not even Iro will tell me where she is." He looked up at Burke. „You still don't remember?"

Burke clenched his jaw around the twiggy tuber and spoke through his teeth. „The last thing I remember is the jump, and how we smashed into the planet. Everything after that got knocked out of my skull for good."

„We only smashed into the atmosphere," Virdon corrected him absently. „I remember there's an ocean to the East and South, but I didn't recognize the shoreline. I didn't really have the time to look, though."

„Hm. That rules out Pakistan. China?" Dear god, no. „But they don't look Asian." Hell, they didn't look Caucasian, either - Burke didn't know of _any_ human race that had cat's eyes. Although he wasn't a biologist, he was pretty sure that evolution couldn't account for that strange mutation. But no matter how much these people didn't fit into his knowledge of his homeworld, this was _Earth_ \- _their_ Moon, _their_ constellations, the fact that no alien virus had killed them on the spot… yeah, those tubers looked alien, too, but the fish and the mussels were ordinary Earth varieties; Virdon had even identified some of the fish, although Burke hadn't bothered to memorize the names.

„Just... just leave it, Pete. Let's find our ship and contact ANSA and let _them_ explain why they couldn't find us." Virdon sounded tired. The question of where the hell they had come down had to drive him crazy, too.

If this was some sort of quarantined zone, some secret genetic engineering experiment, it would explain why anthropologists weren't already all over Ehpah and her tribe. There was just no way they would've stayed undetected - 21st century Earth didn't have any white spots on its map. But it didn't explain why they hadn't been scooped up by the agency in charge of that experiment the moment they had crashed. Surely whoever had pissed into these people's gene pool wouldn't want outside interference...

Burke took the tuber out of his mouth and pointed it at Virdon. „You know, that's the other thing that's strange about this place - nobody has turned up to look for us yet. I mean, we weren't exactly sneaky when we came howling through the skies. But not even a damn helicopter on the horizon. And we've been here for how long? Four weeks, five?"

Virdon kept his gaze on the food and shrugged. „I'm just as stumped as you, Pete. We need to find the _Icarus_ , and... then we'll take it from there."

Burke was sure that his commander had been probing the riddle of their location again and again like an aching tooth, too. It was just that some of the explanations Burke had come up with were too damn unsettling to contemplate. He wasn't interested in theoretical physics, but too many pop science articles had introduced him to the theory of multiple universes that the idea didn't worm itself into his consciousness from time to time. Who said that Hasslein's fucked up machine had hurled them just through space? What if they hadn't taken a shortcut from Callisto to Earth, but from Callisto to some _alternate_ Earth?

 _In that case, we'd be well and truly fucked._ There'd be no ANSA to call, no way to return to their own home. Burke couldn't say he was eager to stay with the Flintstones, but Virdon was looking at the possibility that he'd never see his wife and son again. Never see the face of his unknown baby daughter. No wonder he was so tense.

Burke decided to drop the subject for now. If this was some other Earth, there was nothing they could do about it, but that still didn't mean he wanted to stay with the glow-eyed creatures of the black - alright, blue - lagoon, no matter how nice Ehpah's butt was. On the other hand, hoping to find a way home was what kept his commander going. There was no reason to kill that motor.

„We have no idea where to even start looking," he pointed out.

Virdon rocked back on his haunches and gave him a thoughtful look. „As you said, we weren't exactly inconspicuous. This crash must've left some very visible scars on the landscape. If we find some elevated spot from where we can survey the area, I'm sure we'll see them - burned and broken trees, for example. Otherwise, we just have to systematically sweep the area to the northwest of the tribe's territory ."

„Any special reason why you want to look there, and not also in the _south_ west?" Burke wanted to know.

Virdon smiled. „Iro warned me not to go there, because evil 'fur-men' will kill me with sticks of fire. Of all the journeys I had talked about that I wanted to make with him to explore the jungle, this was the one that got a reaction."

„You sneaky bastard," Burke murmured.

Virdon shrugged apologetically. „It's a parental survival skill. You don't really have a choice, it gets activated at your child's birth."

„Fine, let's take a walk after dinner then. I heard it's good for digestion."

They didn't get more than perhaps five hundred yards into the swamp when one of the men turned up in the middle of the path, spear in hand, and complimented them back. He didn't exactly point the spear at them, but his gestures were energetic enough to let Burke suspect that he wouldn't hesitate to at least poke them if Virdon hadn't turned around obediently.

„I truly feel like an honored guest here," Burke murmured to him in English. He glanced over his shoulders to their guard, who was following two steps behind them. „Really _cherished_. We need to figure out how many of them are guarding the perimeter, their positions," he laughed, „when their shifts change..." They had reached the campsite and the hunter turned away to presumably take up his post behind some banana tree again.

„This tribe has perhaps thirty members, including the women, children, and old people," Virdon mused when they were back in their hut. „It's a great drain on their manpower to task their young men with guarding us, when they should actually be out in the jungle hunting for food. So far, we're just two more mouths to feed, without having any use for them in exchange."

Burke twirled another dried tuber between his fingers. He didn't like the implications. „You mean they're saving us for something special?"

Virdon grimaced. „I don't want to find out any more than you."

Burke took a deep breath and bit down on his tuber. „Then we better start finding a way around those guards."

* * *

Virdon paused for a moment at the end of the path to the lagoon, expecting to run into one of their guards in the next moment. Ever since he and Burke had begun to use the water for training after their months of low _g_ exposure, the hunters had allowed only one of them to swim at a time. Their reasoning was obvious: neither of them would try to escape as long as the tribe still had the other one under their control.

Right now, Burke was already treading water somewhere out there, waiting for him to catch up. He and Virdon had been crossing the lagoon several times by now, building a stash of supplies in a small crevice at the opposite shore. It wasn't much - the tribe didn't have a lot of material goods they could nab. They had some _cucas_ for carrying water, ropes, a bundles of _chrooks_ , and a stone knife that Burke had somehow acquired. Virdon smiled wryly as he remembered the string of curses Pete had hurled at the thing; he was still grieving the loss of his ANSA knife. Virdon had finally managed to convince him that an confrontation with its current owner would gravely impact their chances of escape; the knife just wasn't worth it, although it would have been an improvement to the stone knife.

Well, if they managed to find the _Icarus_ , Burke could get another one. Their survival kits would enable them to wait for ANSA to catch up to them, and the shipwreck was easily defensible in case the tribe tried to bring them home again.

But before he could worry about that, he first needed to reach the water.

It was still about an hour to dawn, and the moon had already set around midnight; the only light came from the stars above, amazingly bright in this part of the world that was apparently unpolluted by artificial light. He wouldn't speculate now what part of the world would fit all the contradicting clues they had collected over the past few weeks. Instead he listened for the rustling of leaves, or the sound of someone else but him breathing. But the only thing he heard was the soft sound of water lapping at the shore.

He shrugged and resumed walking; if there was a guard hidden in the darkness somewhere, the man would have detected him by now, anyway. These people were professionals, they could be standing three feet away from him, and he'd never...

„Go back, Virtonn. Your friend is already in the water." A shadow had appeared in his path; Virdon recognized the man only by the sound of his voice. „Go back and wait your turn." He sounded almost friendly. The tribe knew by now that the sky-men couldn't see in the darkness as well as them; Virdon smiled, knowing that the other would be able to see it.

„I know he is still in the water, Uhsan. That is why I went looking for him. He is gone too long now. I'm worried about my friend." He made a show of looking over the water as if he could detect Burke there. „Something might have happened to him." He took a step towards the hunter.

Uhsan held his spear across the path like a turnpike, and Virdon stopped. „The Dreaming Man said, only one of you in the water. Not both."

Well, at least he wasn't pointing the spear at him. While Burke had gotten into some „friendly" fights with the younger men - although to his credit, he hadn't started them -, Virdon had taken care to always nod and smile, speak softly and be agreeable to virtually anything. By now, the tribe had pegged him as harmless. It was true that he did prefer outwitting his adversaries to outgunning them.

His fist connected with Uhsan's chin and the man fell without a sound. Virdon shook his tingling hand and wished he hadn't stopped boxing when Sally had asked him to, shortly after they had met-

He wouldn't think about Sally now.

The water was surprisingly cold without the sun warming it, but after a few strokes, his muscles were working up enough heat to make it bearable. He counted his strokes: after fifty of them, he paused and tried to make out Burke's head in the water. They had started out at the same point from the shore, so he had to be near, but it was too dark to see.

„Pete! Where are you? Pete!"

„I'm here," Burke's breathless voice was right at his shoulder. Virdon hadn't heard him swimming up to him over the patter of the waves around him. „What took you so long?"

„I had a little chat with Uhsan at the shore." He heard Burke cough a little laugh.

„What did you tell him?"

„To go back to sleep."

„I hope you tucked him in tight, or they'll all be up in arms now." They were moving in long, even strokes now; no use tiring themselves out, they still had quite a distance to go.

„No," Virdon gasped when his face surfaced again, „they can't come after us anyway, and I didn't want to lose more time."

Burke didn't say anything at that, and for a while neither of them spoke, concentrating on their breath and keeping their course straight instead.

Burke kept calling the body of water they were currently crossing a lagoon, but Sally would've pointed out that it wasn't shallow enough and didn't run parallel to the coast to be called that. She'd have called it an estuary, the drowned valley of a slow running river that periodically received salt water from the ocean. Virdon smiled as he pictured Burke's bored face while she'd lecture him about the differences and then go on to point out the minutiae of nutrients, salinity, sedimentation...

For a moment, Virdon could smell her - not the fishy smell of the water around him, not the warm floral scent of her perfume, but _her,_ the way her skin smelled in bed, on one of those rare lazy Sunday mornings when she'd snuggle up to him half-asleep, and he'd bury his nose in her hair or the crook of her neck-

He put the thought of her out of his mind so violently that his heart hurt, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. He coughed, sputtered, and had to stop. He stilled, treading water, trying to catch his breath.

Burke stopped, too. „You okay?"

He coughed again, ashamed. „Yeah, I just... swallowed water." He resumed swimming, passing Burke. After a moment, his friend followed, and for the rest of the way, Virdon carefully kept his thoughts focused on the next stroke, the next kick, the next breath.

When the dark mass of the opposite shore finally appeared over the waves, his arms and his lungs were aching. Although they had started to swim longer distances for endurance training lately, crossing the bay was still an effort he didn't care to repeat.

Or perhaps he was getting old. Burke didn't seem to have any problems, cutting through the waves ahead of him with swift, steady strokes.

The sky was turning from black to smoky slate now, and the indistinct landmass before them was slowly resolving into the silhouettes of trees and shrubs and moving shadows. Virdon blinked the water out of his eyes. The shadows didn't stop moving, a shivering blackness that suddenly rose into the air and came towards them.

Something swished overhead and dove into the water to his left. Then to his right, not even making a splash. Virdon heard Burke curse and cough, and then violent splashes as the younger man raced towards him in a hasty crawl.

„Turn back, go, go..."

All around them, sleek projectiles were hitting the water now. Spears, Virdon realized with a violent jerk. Some other tribe had been awaiting them-

_How did they know we'd come tonight?_

Virdon forced his heavy, aching arms into a crawl, ploughing through the water in the desperate attempt to get out of the hostiles' reach. He hoped these people couldn't swim, either - he didn't think he'd be up to underwater combat right now.

That tribe had to have caught sight of Burke or him when they were adding to their stash, and they'd been lying in wait for them since then. These people could have easily waited for them to go on land, and killed them from the trees. That they hadn't done it probably meant they only intended to chase them away...

Another spear hissed into the water, and Virdon felt a hot line of pain race along the outer side of his thigh as the blade grazed his leg. He had no way to check how deep the cut went; he could only hope the constant movement of his legs wouldn't pump the blood out too vigorously. The wound wouldn't clot as long as he was in the water, at any rate. It would probably get infected.

_Damn._

They were finally out of missile range, judging by the sounds behind them, and now even Burke stopped for a moment, treading water and hurling a string of curses towards the shore. Virdon let him vent for a moment, using the break to catch his breath.

„I didn't know that one," he finally remarked at an especially colorful insult. Burke fell silent; Virdon could hear him coughing and sniffing, and finally, heaving a frustrated sigh.

„The damn savages tried to make sushi out of us!"

In the growing light, Virdon could make out Burke staring at him. When he caught his gaze, Burke waved a wet hand towards the hostile shore. „They'll be waiting for us - so what now? We try our luck further upstream?"

Virdon inhaled deeply and shook his head. „We have no idea how far their territory extends, and from the shore, they can easily see where we're headed."

„But downstream is just the ocean…" Burke paused. „We'll have to go back. Damn." He tried to wipe the water out of his face. „They'll be thrilled to have us back," he muttered, „especially Uhsan."

„I told him I was worried about you since you had been gone for so long," Virdon tried for a light tone. „So I'll claim you had a cramp in your leg and I had to rescue you."

Burke snorted. „You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

Virdon shrugged. His leg hurt and he avoided thinking about the distance that lay before him. „That's my story and I'll stick to it. And you will, too." He started crawling again.

When they reached their own side of the bay again, the sun had risen and the beach was glowing in the bright morning light. Unlike most mornings, the shore was packed; every member of the tribe was on their feet and down at the water, the few elders keeping with the toddlers to the transition from sand to jungle, the hunters down at the waterline; Virdon discovered the Dreaming Man in their midst.

He was the only man not holding a spear.

When the crowd detected them, they began to howl and dance, the women shaking their fists, the men shaking their spears skyward. Virdon thought it was more an expression of excitement than hostility, but he stopped moving towards the shore nonetheless. Burke was at his side, treading water once again. He looked worried.

„We're already inside their range," he remarked.

Nobody made a move to hurl their spear against them, Virdon noticed. „They want us to come out of the water."

„Yeah, not happening. They look like they wanna have us for breakfast!"

„We won't have a choice - we can't stay in the water forever, and we can't go on land on the other side." And he didn't have the energy to cross the bay a third time. The pain in his leg had wandered deeper into the muscle, a dull throbbing that had already weakened his kicks during the last few hundred yards. Right now, he was happy to feel the sand between his toes again, even if the faces of their welcoming committee didn't look exactly welcoming.

The hunters crowded them in the hip-deep water, grabbing their arms and leading them towards the beach as if they were worried they might slip away like the fish they were spearing for dinner. Virdon suddenly found himself face to face with the Dreaming Man; he opened his mouth to tell his lie about Burke's cramp, but the shaman cut him off.

„We will take your magic now."

* * *

It was strange, Sally thought, how different silences could sound. You'd think that since they were the absence of sound, they'd all be the same.

But this silence was different from the times when Alan was away on a mission. Even then, the house was filled with his presence, as if he'd step through the door any moment. Maybe it was the calls, she reflected; the knowledge that she'd hear his voice again, even if it was only for a few moments.

But this silence was empty; it stuffed her ears like cotton balls, muffling even the little sounds that were still there - her steps on the wooden floor of the living room she was pacing, the rushing sound of a passing car, the hum of the refrigerator. Everything was muted and dull, and somehow, the silence was crawling into her mouth and throat, wandering down and settling in her chest. It was choking her so that she couldn't breathe.

But at least she couldn't cry, either.

The baby was sleeping; she was sleeping so much, never fussing, always so considerate of her poor mom... as considerate as her dad had been and she'd stop that train of thought right here, and Chris was in his room, hopefully in the new suit that he hadn't wanted to wear.

„We can't go to Dad's funeral, Mom," he had argued, „that's bad luck!"

She had tried to explain to him that one could have a funeral even if there was no body to bury, but he had flat out refused to believe that his father had died. Chris clung to his belief that the _Icarus_ had crashed on Proxima Centauri b, the planet circling the smallest of the triple star system they had set out to visit. Sally hadn't had the heart to tell him how unlikely that scenario was.

Instead, she had told him that the funeral was an opportunity for them to honor his dad, to show how much people respected him and the rest of the crew for their courage and devotion, and that he could go up to the front and tell everyone what a wonderful person Alan Virdon had been...

She clenched her jaw and rapidly blinked the tears away. Good god, she didn't think she could do that without breaking down in front of everyone; how could she expect a ten year old boy to speak a eulogy?

Then the screen beeped.

The sound was too loud in the silence, demanding and intrusive. She had no idea who would want to call her - the reporters had finally given up, after four months.

She let it beep. Whoever it was would realize that nobody was home and abort the call.

After the twelfth or fifteenth beep, she finally relented.

... and jerked back with shock and fury when she saw the face on the screen.

„You!"

"... Alan's alive."

Hasslein barely succeeded in getting the words out before she could press the 'cancel' button. Sally was silent for a moment, her finger hovering over the screen, her breath coming in rapid puffs as if she'd run for miles. „You're thirty seconds away from my terminating this call."

The bastard smiled a thin, humourless smile. „That would be a regrettable waste of a unique opportunity. The investigation has been closed, Mrs. Virdon - ANSA found no evidence that Mr. Jones acted with my knowledge or authorisation. I'm free to continue with my research... that means I don't _have_ to call you again. And I won't."

„Ten seconds."

Hasslein leaned slightly forward, the smile never leaving his lips. His eyes didn't smile, she noticed.

„I am offering you a reunion with your husband, Mrs. Virdon. I believe we can cooperate to our mutual benefit in this case. The minutiae of that cooperation will take longer than ten seconds to explain, so I suggest you stop playing games."

She took a deep breath to steady herself, so that her voice wouldn't waver when she'd say it out loud. Say it for the first time. „Alan is dead. Your hole swallowed his ship." She didn't dare to blink, to force the wetness in her eyes down her cheek. She'd cut the call before she'd let him see her cry.

His eyes narrowed - perhaps he mistook her stare for disdain.

„You are talking to the designer of this 'hole', as you so eloquently put it; I can assure you that a _wormhole_ is not the same as a _black hole._ There's a reasonable probability that the crew is still alive. The ship may be damaged, however, which is the reason why they haven't returned on their own yet."

„That wormhole of yours _collapsed!_ " She was trying not to yell at him; yelling would mean getting emotional, which would lead to crying, which would lead to a total breakdown.

„We're not talking of a collapsing _building!_ " His irritation showed clearly now. „Imagine that they walked down a tunnel and closed the door behind them. That is what 'collapsing' means in this context. The only difference being that by closing the door, the tunnel also vanished. If the ship is damaged, they have no means of creating another tunnel - another path back to this Earth."

„What do you want from me?" She didn't want to hear any more of collapsing tunnels and closing doors; her nightmares were bad enough already.

„We need to build another path to your... to the crew. That means we need another ship like the _Icarus."_

Sally laughed, a bitter, slightly hysterical laugh, even to her own ears. „Another ship like the _Icarus?_ How many years did it take to build the first one? Ten years, twelve? How are they going to survive that long? We don't even know where they are!"

Hasslein smiled, and this time, triumph shone brightly in his eyes. „Oh, but we do know where they are - they are right _here_ , on Earth. Just not... right _now_. The wormhole sent them through time, not space. Your husband may be in the room with you, Sally, just a thousand years apart."

She stared at him, for the first time since he called her at a loss for words. When she found her voice, it was barely a whisper. „You are either insane or a monster. Why am I even talking to you?"

„Because you know that I am the only one that can bring Alan back, Sally - but I can only do it if you help me convince ANSA to finance a rescue mission."

She wouldn't... she couldn't let this man torture her with this fantastic tale of rescuing Alan. She had two children to take care of, a job that she had to return to, soon, much too soon, and she wouldn't listen to this charlatan, she'd cut the line now, right this second.

„How in the world am I going to convince ANSA to do anything? I'm not even on their payroll, and I don't have any connections..."

She hated herself; hated her desperation and her hope.

 _„Icarus_ and your husband have gained a certain notoriety, but what's more important, the colonel is also a decorated war hero. And now you're left behind, with a young son and a baby daughter... Don't tell me that you have no idea how to turn that into a public movement to put some pressure on our space agency," Hasslein said dryly. „I'm certain they don't want to have to deal with bad press... not again."

„You don't give a damn about Alan, or Major Burke," Sally ground out. Hope was trembling in her stomach and in her chest now, trying to climb into her mouth and pour out in a rush of 'yes! yes, save him!' But her brain was still working, even though her head was aching.

She was aching all over.

Hasslein shook his head; his gaze never left her face, his grey eyes cool and hard like marbles. „You are an intelligent woman, Mrs. Virdon - aren't you a scientist yourself? Marine biologist, if I remember right. Of course I care more about my project than about your husband, but why would that be a bad thing? Our interests coincide, and my proposal would help you as much as it would help me. Our cooperation is the logical response to our respective predicaments."

Sally closed her eyes and tiredly rubbed her temples. The headache had turned into a stabbing pain as if someone was poking her brain with hot needles. „What do you want me to do?"

„I need to build another ship like the _Icarus,"_ she heard Hasslein's patient voice. „I leave it to your ingenuity to come up with a strategy how to bring ANSA into line. Call me when you've made your decision." The line fell silent; Sally buried her head in her hands and tried to stop thinking.

The bell rang, and she heard Chris stomping downstairs to answer the door. She just stayed where she was, trying to fall into the darkness between her hands, into the empty numbness that had shielded her during the first days after they had told her about... about the ship. Trying to ignore the murmur of voices from the front door - Alan's parents, coming to pick them up for the funeral.

„Sally?"

With a sigh, she raised her head. As always, her heart constricted when she looked at James Virdon - Alan looked so much like his father, it always sent a jolt through her... as if he'd returned against all odds, until her brain caught up with her. She gave him a teary smile.

„There's been a change to the program, Dad - I just got a call..."            


	7. Chapter 7

In an instant, the hunters were swarming him and Burke, dragging them under. The sudden assault knocked Virdon from his feet before he had a chance to react. There was nothing to grab, to lock, to kick... only countless hands clawing at him, holding him down, suffocating him. He heard someone scream out with fury and fear, and only realized a moment later that it had been his own voice. He tore away from the invisible grip on his upper arms, but then something heavy clamped down on his legs, and someone took him in a choke hold that made stars explode in the corners of his eyes.

His arms were locked behind his back and a rope snaked around his wrists, then pulled tight. Hands grabbed his ankles, his torso, someone had a fistful of his hair, and he was carried up the path to the camp face down, and towards the fire, where they dropped him rather unceremoniously. The fall knocked the air out of him and he just lay there in the dust for a moment, stunned.

_...what’s happening?_

When he cautiously turned his head, he saw Burke lying face down beside him, equally stunned. Virdon struggled to his knees and dazedly shook his head. Adrenaline was shaking his limbs. Beside him, Burke clumsily sat up and glanced around. His hands were bound behind his back, too. Whatever was meant to go down now, the tribe didn’t take any chances.

„I wish I had my knife,“ Burke growled. Virdon shook his head. Even if they managed to break through the throng of hunters surrounding them, where would they run to? But he understood the sentiment - if they had to die, at least they’d die fighting.

The crowd parted for a moment to let the shaman step into the circle. He had put on his office suit, as Burke had once scoffed, the full assortment of paint, beads, and feathers, and didn’t even spare him a glance. His attention was on his tribe.

„Damn, this looks official to me,“ Burke muttered. „They’ll have us for breakfast, I tell ya.“

The Dreaming Man pointed something at them - some pale object, probably made from a big animal’s bone, as far as Virdon could tell. It had to be handed down from generation to generation, because he couldn’t remember that the men had brought home anything bigger than a swamp rat since they had arrived. It was painted and decorated with strings and beads, but he forgot about the thing when the shaman started talking. He wasn’t addressing him and Burke directly, but that didn’t make his speech less alarming.

„Three moons ago, I walked the Dreaming Paths and saw the white bird fall down from the stars, his wings broken; two moons ago, the sky-men fell from the stars, their wings broken. Two moons ago, I walked the Dreaming Paths and saw the bird shed his feathers and slip into the water like the _saksakang_ ,“ - he still didn’t know half of their vocabulary, Virdon realized - „and I warned the _pankah“ -_ the chief? - „that the sky-men would try to slip away.“

 _Someone is trying to shift the blame._ If their situation hadn’t been so dire, Virdon would’ve been amused that some things never changed, no matter when and where humans came together. But it explained why this ceremony was taking place in bright daylight instead of utilizing the dramatic effects of a fire during the night. The shaman had to be in a terrible hurry to assert his authority over the situation.

That didn’t bode well for him and Burke. Virdon listened intently.

„The spirits promised me that the sky-men would bring plenty to the _Ah-ti._ Some of you have begged me to wait until the sky-men could understand our words so that we can tell them to share their magic. Some have asked that the sky-men should be taught our ways so that they can provide better for the _Ah-ti._ And I have indulged them, like a father indulges a child.“

Beside him, Burke was muttering something under his breath.

„But the spirits are wiser than men, and I must listen to them and not to children. I bound the sky-men to the earth, and I called them back from the water, and now I will take their _tisin_ and the hunters will take their fill.“

The bone was suddenly gone, exchanged for a stone knife. Virdon felt his body go cold with sudden realization.

_He’ll kill us. This is a blood sacrifice._

„They ain’t gonna eat us,“ Burke whispered, his voice hoarse with shock. „That’s just some cliché joke in old newspaper comic strips.“

Cannibalism was very much a living practice even at the turn of the century in some tribes, but Virdon didn’t have the time for an anthropological lesson right now. He had to think of something, fast.

„And what will you do if our sky magic is depleted after one moon?“ he yelled over the excited voices of the hunters.

Everyone fell silent.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Burke frowning at him. Virdon kept his eyes fixed on the shaman, who was staring at him with a slack face.

_Go on, don’t let him regain the initiative!_

„We weren’t trying to escape,“ he fell back on his prepared story, desperately racking his brain for some argument that would convince people who thought in terms of magic and spirits not to kill them, „we were... replenishing our magic. We need to, to bathe in the water when the right star-patterns shine on them, or the magic will die in our blood.“ _No, don’t mention blood, don’t remind them..._

The shaman narrowed his eyes, catching on. „I know what you are trying to do, sky-man: you want to keep the magic for yourself. But I won’t be fooled by your sly words. We will share your blood.“ He stepped closer. Someone behind Virdon grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. Beside him, he could hear Burke struggle against his captors.

„Why share it for just one moon, when you could have it for many more?“ he choked out. He couldn’t see the shaman now, and felt his last seconds rapidly ticking away. „We will share our magic and bring you plenty for many seasons if you let us. We didn’t know what was expected of us - we didn’t understand your language, remember? We _will_ share!“ He was begging now, he knew, but he was also appealing to the strongest human instinct: greed.

The knife came down on him.

It was a stone knife, but it was as sharp as any steel blade, carving a pattern into his chest and over his collarbones. Virdon held his breath, waiting for the last strike against his throat.

Instead the shaman turned to Burke and began to decorate him the same way. He was chanting something in a language that didn’t sound anything like the one they had been learning for the last few weeks, and Virdon wondered absently if it was a language at all or just a string of sounds meant to impress him or, more likely, the tribe.

At the edge of his field of vision, he saw movement and something white - someone had brought their stolen uniforms to the ritual. Now their trousers and jackets and... and boots, if he had caught that right, were torn apart and distributed among the tribespeople.

„You will feed the _Ah-ti._ You’ll provide plenty. We will have your _tisin_.“ With those words, the shaman waved at his people and they began to line up and catch the blood that was flowing from the sky-men’s wounds with the pieces of uniform cloth they had been given.

Virdon felt every hair on his body rise; he jerked back in his captor's grip, trying to escape the disturbingly intimate touches on his chest. They were being... harvested. The realization made him nauseous.

One of the Dreaming Man’s helpers began to smear something over the wounds that burned like hellfire. Salt, acid, _phosphorus_ levels of pain swept over Virdon, but he clenched his teeth and refused to make a sound. He heard Burke hiss in pain behind him.

Finally, the man stepped back and exchanged the knife for the bone from the beginning of the ritual. Whoever had held Virdon’s scalp released his grip, too, and Virdon felt a faint hope alighting in his chest. Maybe they’d survive this day, after all.

The shaman pointed the bone at him, and Virdon flinched against his will. A satisfied murmur arose from the crowd. Apparently, they took his reaction as a sign that the shaman’s magic had taken hold. Virdon didn’t intend to correct that impression for now.

„Before the moon is full, we will eat plenty,“ the shaman said, and it sounded more like a threat than a statement to Virdon’s ears. „The sky-men are bound to the _Ah-ti._ They will never leave. And we will never go hungry." He waved imperiously at Virdon. "Now go to your fire and lay down for the day.“

Virdon felt the rope around his wrists snap. He lost no time, grabbed Burke’s arm and dragged the younger man to his feet. They were under the Dreaming Man’s thrall now, and had to comply. It was best if everyone was on the same page about that.

Besides, he was knocked out from the swim. He _wanted_ to lay down for the day. They stumbled to their hut and climbed into their hammocks, still somewhat stunned that they were going to live after all.

„What do you think will happen if we don’t manage to conjure the steaks and fries?“ Burke asked after a long silence.

„I think the Dreaming Man was quite clear about that: bring us food, or _be_ the food.“ He had bought them a few more days, Virdon knew. He had no idea how to provide food for so many people in such a short time. They had hunted their territory down to the maggots and he wondered what kept them in place.

Burke snorted. „Talk about workplace motivation.“ Then he fell silent again. Virdon turned his thoughts to the lagoon... the estuary again. He remembered that Sally had said that they were the most productive habitats, home of fish nurseries and sea birds. It was true that the tribe’s women hunted fish with special short spears, a bit like harpoons, but without boats or the ability to swim, they couldn’t make full use of the bounty that the bay was offering them. If he could teach them a more efficient method...

But that didn’t solve their own problem of escape. If anything, it made them even more valuable to the tribe, and thus, even more jealously guarded.

„I don’t wanna sound like your wife, Al,“ Burke spoke up hesitantly, „but what are you thinking about?“

Virdon sighed and rubbed his eyes. „I’m thinking about Plan B.“

* * *

The jungle was steaming under the midday sun; Virdon could feel his heart beat steadily in his chest, straining to keep his blood pumping through his body. He was dripping with sweat.

_I should've persuaded Iro to go down to the water with me. I could've taught him to swim..._

But after that nightly trip to the other shore, the tribe was loathe to let them go even near the beach without at least one hunter guarding them, and he had almost not believed his luck when the boy had dragged him away from the camp claiming he wanted to show him something. So he had just followed Iro into the jungle, hoping to be able to orient himself about the territory they had crashed in. It had been less than enlightening, though. As far as he could see, the wilderness stretched for miles around them in every direction, except for the east where the equally hostile ocean lay.

„Look!" Iro pointed at the trunk of a tree. Its bark was torn to shreds, with deep gashes even in the white wood underneath. The boy hunkered down to have a closer look, then shrugged and smiled reassuringly up to him. „It's old. The bushcat hasn't come here for days."

„That's a good thing. I wouldn't want to come across a beast that can leave such marks." Virdon wiped the sweat from his brow. So far, they hadn't come across whatever Iro had promised to show to him. Virdon suspected that there wasn't anything in particular the boy had had in mind - he had just wanted to spend time with him alone. Not that he minded. Chris had been the same, always eager to go hiking with his dad...

Virdon swallowed. It was no use thinking about that now. He had promised Chris he'd find a way home, and that was exactly what he was going to do. In fact, Iro had given him the perfect opportunity to finally get past the guards; perhaps he'd be able to tease out a bit more information about the _Icarus'_ location from him.

„What was it that you wanted to show me, Iro?" he asked. The hot, moist air was suffocating, reminding him of his days in Nigeria - when he hadn't flown missions, he had spent the time in the blessedly air conditioned officers' mess whenever he could. „I need to go down to the water - I promised your Dreaming Man to use our magic to get you food, remember?" he reminded the boy. „You can come with me, and we tell stories," he suggested when he saw Iro's face fall.

Iro nodded and turned sharp left, not bothering to look for a path. The underwood was light enough here to allow for shortcuts. „We go down here," he explained, „so that we can eat some opers on the way." The fruits looked like a cross between an orange and a banana and tasted like peach and vanilla - they were everyone's favourite, even Burke's, and the patches of wild growth were an enviously guarded secret. Iro hadn't shared his with anyone before, and Virdon had to swear up and down that he would never tell anyone the location of the spot.

While they were munching their opers, Iro's mouth never stood still. He brought Virdon up to date on the latest gossip of the camp - like Ahta pining for Ehpah „for many moons, but she doesn't like him much; I think she likes Burrke more," and his hopes to join the hunters soon.

Then he leaned forward with a conspiratory stare. „I know a story," he announced. „And it really happened."

Virdon smiled and leaned forward, too. „Let's hear it."

„If I tell you a story, you must tell me a story in return," Iro said with a sly grin. „And it must be a true story, too."

Virdon laughed. „It's a deal."

Iro sat up straighter, his eyes shining with importance. „When sun goes to sleep in the West," he began in the vague sing-song that only almost had a discernible harmony or rhythm - the way a long-remembered story traveled from generation to generation. „He goes to a place where he can't burn any living thing. To that place, no plant and no animal and no man must go. Only stones can live there, because he can burn them and it doesn't matter to them."

Virdon didn't bother to tell him about volcanoes and the fact that stone can melt if hot enough, but nodded encouragingly when Iro stopped to gauge the effect of his words on his audience. Satisfied with Virdon's attention, he continued:

„But it only doesn't matter to the body of the stone. The spirits in the stone go _crazy!"_ He gesticulated wildly, eyes wide, to illustrate the craziness. „But they must be there to make a place for the sun to sleep, because if there wasn't such a place, the sun would always shine and it would never be night." He calmed down a bit, and his voice took on the hushed, menacing tone that Virdon recalled from many Halloween ghost story sessions.

„But sometimes one of those stones comes back to our land. And you don't see that it's a crazy stone. You just look at it and think, oh, it's just a stone. But its spirit is _crazy!_ And then it goes and makes _your_ spirits crazy and then you get sick and die!" He leaned back with a satisfied grin, clearly pleased with his delivery of the punch line.

Virdon scratched his beard. „You get sick and die? But how is that possible?"

Iro leaned forward again, as if he'd only waited to be asked for the gory details. „Because your spirits get crazy, the spirits who live in your belly and in your blood and in your head, they go _all_ crazy. And then you can't eat, and you only shit, day and night, and you vomit blood _all_ over the place. And your hair falls out," he added as an afterthought.

That list struck Virdon as strangely familiar. It almost sounded like symptoms of radiation sickness. „And do you also get burns when you hold these stones?" he asked casually.

„Yes, how did you know?" Iro said, perplexed.

„And that happened to people here? People you know?" Virdon asked instead, now more than a bit concerned.

„No," Iro admitted, a bit reluctant, „the Dreaming Man told us the story. But it really happened! People went there to see where the sun goes to sleep and when they came back, they were sick. And when the people here took the stones that the others had brought back, they got burns on their hands. And then the Dreaming Man made them take the stones back to where the sun goes to sleep. And the people who brought back the stones never came back," he concluded in a rush, clearly bored with the denouement of the story.

Virdon was equally intrigued and worried, but his questions didn't yield any more answers from Iro, who finally remembered that he was due a story from Virdon in exchange.

„What do the stars look like, when you swim among them?" he wanted to know, while they were crab-walking down the steep slope to the bay. They were now a good distance north of the camp, Virdon noticed.

He looked down on Iro in surprise. The phrasing of the question conjured up an image of Iro swimming in the black water of the lake, stars shooting by like tiny fish. „What do _you_ think they look like?" he asked.

For a moment, Iro was silent. „I had a dream once," he finally confessed in a low voice. „In my dream, I was floating in the sky. I float higher and higher and I am among the stars. They are very close. They are like fire, but not like our fire. The fire is round, like a _cuca._ And it's not hot; but very bright. I float, and the lights float, too, all around me, above and below and everywhere. And there are so many of them that everything is bright. And I have a feeling...," he put a hand on his chest, „A good feeling. I have no words for that feeling, but it was very good." He looked up at Virdon. „Don't tell the Dreaming Man of my dream, Virtonn. I don't want to become a Dreaming Man."

„Your dreams belong to you and nobody else, Iro," Virdon reassured him. „I won't tell it to anyone." He didn't want Iro to become the shaman's apprentice, either.

They had reached a secluded stretch of the shore; this part of the embankment was overgrown with shrubs and young trees that were shading them from the sun's heat. The air was cooler here thanks to the water, and easier to breathe. Bundles of saplings, vines and the inner layers of tree bark lay in the sand in messy heaps, a clear visual representation of Burke's lack of enthusiasm.

„This is a stone knife, Al," he had explained with exaggerated patience when Virdon had given him his orders, „not an axe, or a saw. It's not meant to cut trees, hell, it's not a fucking gardening tool!"

„If you have a better idea how to feed the tribe, I'll be happy to consider it," Virdon had told him. „This will at least buy us time until we've prepared our escape." He hadn't said _next_ escape; they both understood that their next attempt would either be successful, or fatal.

Burke had just thrown up his arms in frustration and vanished into the jungle, Ehpah in tow.

Virdon eyed the size of the bundles and tried to guess how much of the time Burke had spent with actual work, and how much of it he had spent with the young woman. Even Iro could see what was up with these two.

The sooner they put distance between themselves and the tribe, the better.

„So what do the stars look like?" Iro insisted.

Virdon sat down in the sand and reached for a handful of saplings. He searched for words to capture the wonder he always felt when he was in space. „When I travel among the stars, it's like swimming underwater at night," he began, drawing on that earlier image of Iro in his mind, „because it's so dark. The stars are so far away from each other that I can never reach them in my life - it would take many lifetimes to travel to them." He paused for a moment, unsure how to explain the Hasslein drive and the bending of space... or the wormhole.

„There are secret ways for travel," he finally said, „so you can reach the stars that are too far away. But I have only traveled them once." He secured the crossed saplings with a vine.

„And then your bird fell off that path and broke its wings," Iro interrupted him excitedly. „The Dreaming Man can travel these paths, too, but they are very dangerous."

Virdon didn't want to start a discussion about the differences between his secret paths and those of the shaman and anyway, he wouldn't have known how to explain the difference so that Iro would understand it. So he just nodded and continued, „Most of the time, there's only blackness all around me, and very tiny lights of these far away stars. But have you seen the stars in the sky that move? They are closer, and I have seen them up close when I passed them in my... my star bird." He stopped again, searching for words. Iro was hanging on his words, almost forgetting to breathe.

„They are... _majestic,"_ there were no words for royalty, so he tried, „they are round like... like _cucas,_ like in your dream, and huge, Iro, so huge that I'm like a speck of dust in my star bird. If we were as close to one of them now as I was in the star bird, its body would fill out the whole sky."

Iro stared at him, his eyes as round as _cucas,_ and then out over the lagoon to the sky rising above the treeline of the other shore, trying to fit one of the „wandering stars" into it. „And are they glowing like in my dream?" he asked, a bit hoarsely.

„Not really. They are more like the water reflecting the light of the sun, so from down here, they look as if they had their own fire, when really, they are only shining it back. But they are still beautiful. One of them," and he saw icy Enceladus before his inner eye, „one of them is completely covered by water that is so cold that it has become hard and white like those stones we were playing with earlier. Can you imagine that, Iro? A huge _cuca_ made of hard, white water, wandering through the skies, and spitting up this white cold water for hundreds of feet, higher than the highest trees, higher than the highest birds can fly."

Virdon turned his head to see the boy struggling with that image, a shiver running through his body as if the breath of that alien world was brushing his skin; and the sight of awe and terror in the kid's eyes shook him out of his reverie. Perhaps it wasn't good to plant these vivid images in a little boy's mind. He had done it with Chris, who could never get enough of his stories, but Chris was a child of the 21st century _AD,_ not _BC._ He had let himself get carried away by a treacherous familiarity; but Iro wasn't Chris.

God, how he missed his son.

Trying to shake off the gloomy mood that was threatening to descend on him, he prompted Iro, „How about you tell me another story? A story for a story, right?"

But Iro was still enthralled by the images of stars and huge, icy _cucas._ „That star-bird that you and Burrke traveled in," he said, his eyes still staring unseeingly into the sky, „is it the only one? Do all of the sky-people have star-birds to fly them between the stars?"

„There are more star-birds," Virdon admitted, „but as far as I know, the one that Burke and I traveled in was the only one of its kind. Why do you ask?"

„The Dreaming Man said that another star-bird fell out of the sky when I was a baby," Iro said absent-mindedly. „But the fur-men took the sky-men away then."

A huge bird was gliding over the silent waters, looking for prey. Sunlight danced on the waves, the light reflecting on the bark of the trees. Virdon's skin prickled as if showers of electricity were brushing over his body. He inhaled slowly, as if a sudden movement could chase the boy away like wild deer. „Another star-bird fell from the sky?" he asked softly.

„Yes." Iro shook off whatever vision had haunted him and returned to his familiar, excited self. „It fell down there," he pointed to the other shore, „behind the trees and the fence, only there wasn't a fence then. The fur-men built it after they took the sky-men and made them give their magic to them."

„Can you show me the place?" Virdon asked, straining to keep his voice casual. But Iro shook his head.

„No, the fur-men kill anyone who goes beyond the fence."

That had been the third or fourth time the boy had referred to the „fur-men." Virdon assumed he meant that these people wore clothes - so there was a civilisation nearby. „And these fur-men took the sky-men," he tried to make sense of the jumble. „Do you know what happened to them?"

Iro shrugged. „The Dreaming Man said they gave their magic to the fur-men and that's why they have the fire-sticks that can kill any of us anywhere. If a fur-man stands on the other side of the water and he wants to kill you, he points his firestick at you and boom! You're dead. That's why we don't go to the other side of the fence. Except when you fell from the sky, then the Dreaming Man sent the hunters there to get you. But it was very dangerous."

So this area was cordoned off for some reason, and guarded by armed patrols - local military? Then why hadn't they come to take him and Burke yet?

Virdon resumed his work to give his hands something to do. His mind was reeling from the barrage of information, and it didn't help that it came clad in the understanding of a little boy from a stone-age civilization. „You can't go beyond the fence?" he tried again to make sense of Iro's words. „Is that why the men can't find big game anymore?"

Iro shrugged. „The Dreaming Man says it's because of the magic that the fur-men stole. They keep the game away. What is that?" The boy's attention had moved on to the basket forming under Virdon's hands. He knew from his own son that the topic that interested him most urgently was moot for now.

„It's a fish trap," he explained patiently. „See? The fish swim through this opening and into the basket. Then they don't find the way out anymore, and we can collect them in the morning."

Iro eyed the cage skeptically. „They just swim in there? Because of your magic?"

Virdon hesitated. It would be easy to let Iro and the others believe that it was their special „sky magic" that lured the fish into the traps; it would certainly help their credibility. But he wanted these people to be able to use these traps on their own, so that their children wouldn't go hungry.

„No, not magic," he said. „We'll plant a bait for the fish - something they like to eat."

„You said you would show me magic," Iro complained. „This is just... work."

Virdon smiled. „Magic is in knowing things others don't, Iro, and having skills that others don't have. Things are only miraculous if you don't know that they were possible."

„Hm." The boy didn't look any less sullen.

„That was a nice piece of philosophy, Al," Burke's voice made him look up; he hadn't heard his friend returning. Burke nodded towards the fish trap and continued in English, „but the kid's right - if you want to convince the others that we command some serious mojo, you need to be a lot more flashy. Shake some feathers or something." He threw another armful of saplings to the pile and gave Virdon a hopeful smile. „That enough?"

Virdon eyed the bundle and shook his head, and Burke groaned. „The more traps we can set, the more fish we can bring in," Virdon pointed out. „I know you hate abusing your knife for it, Pete, but we all have to make sacrifices."

Burke wiped the sweat from his face and frowned. „Oh yeah? What sacrifices are you making, exactly?"

Virdon raised his brows. „Well, I'm putting up with you, ain't I?"

Burke grinned despite himself.

Ehpah appeared from under the trees and put down an armful of vines. „We must go back," she said. „Sun is already deep in the sky - the hunters want to go out."

That meant they had to return to their hut. Curfew had been tightened considerably since their extended bath in the bay. Virdon stood and stretched. The meager number of fish traps he had managed to weave remained a niggling worry in the back of his head, but right now, he was burning to share what he had learned from Iro.

Somewhere in that mess of half-understood and mangled information lay the key to this mystery.

* * *

The next days brought more of the same, only with Burke alone in the woods, hacking at saplings, because Ehpah was helping Virdon to make more fish traps. Iro hadn't returned; he had decided that what they were doing wasn't magic, but simply more 'women's work.' The new arrangement didn't make _his_ work any more enjoyable, Burke had thought morosely; at least with Ehpah at his side, he'd had his reward beckoning only a few steps away.

The other thing that made this work hell was the stone knife he had won from Taimis. The flint knife's blade blunted quickly, and you couldn't just sharpen a flint knife; you had to knap it with another stone, and it had taken him almost a week to get it approximately right. Burke fervently longed for his ANSA knife.

Virdon had set one of the traps into the water; they had caught their lunch in it every day, to Ehpah's delight, but Burke honestly couldn't see how they were going to make enough of them to catch fish for the whole tribe before the moon was full. They had another week or so to go; he had never stared at the moon so much in his life.

But no matter how many fish they'd catch, they were toast; it wouldn't escape the other members of the tribe that there was nothing supernatural about a submerged basket, either. Anyone could invent something like this if they put their mind to it. Didn't matter that nobody _had -_ people were ingrate bastards everywhere.

Virdon had said nothing about Iro's disappearance so far, but as they were trotting along the shore in the morning mist now, he casually remarked that he hadn't seen the boy for the last few days. „We're almost done with the traps, I had hoped he'd be around when we set them."

Burke shrugged. „He thinks it's women's work, so I guess he's not that interested."

Virdon looked unhappy. Burke remembered how he'd talked about him and Chris catching fish with traps like these. „Perhaps he's out setting his own traps," he suggested. Iro wasn't allowed yet to hunt bigger game with the adults, so he had resorted to hunting birds; the kid was really successful, too. „You can compare who made the bigger catch later."

„Perhaps he..." Virdon stopped abruptly.

Burke nudged him aside. „What's wrong?"

The shrubs sheltering their little workplace wore silvered leaves, their bark blackened. Their stack of fish traps, finished and unfinished, was a heap of smoldering ash.

Burke raked his hand through his hair and cursed. Virdon stepped onto the clearing and walked around slowly, surveying the damage. „The ash is still warm," he said. „They must've torched the place no longer than an hour ago."

„That's when the hunters returned," Burke said. „Guess who excused himself to take a piss?"

Virdon shook his head. Burke saw a muscle ticking in his jaw. „You can't prove that. Anyway," his foot swiped through the ruins of their work, „we have to come up with a substitute quickly."

„I don't know if the blade can take another round of forest clearing," Burke objected.

„I wasn't thinking of basket traps - that would take too long, and they'd probably burn them again. Do you think your knife is up to cutting vines?"

Burke nodded hesitantly. He hadn't expected this degree of sabotage - it indicated a level of hostility that made the hairs on his neck rise. Whoever had done this wanted them to die in the most graphic manner imaginable.

_Oh come on, who're you kidding? You know who wants to see you bleed._

That weasely guy Ahta had put it into his head that Ehpah was destined to be his girlfriend. Didn't matter that Ehpah wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, the weasel was determined to drag her into his lair. And his chances hadn't been bad before Burke had turned up - apparently, he was the tribe's best hunter; Burke could abstractly understand a father's preference for a son-in-law who knew how to put food on the table. It didn't change his emotions regarding the guy one bit.

And yeah, ever since she had laid eyes on him, Ehpah had made it abundantly clear that she had chosen Burke. Sometimes he wondered if he wasn't just a tool to discourage Ahta as much as possible, but hey, so what if he was? As far as he was concerned, Ehpah was free to use him however she saw fit...

Cutting the tough vines was still hard work, and sweat was pouring down his back as he sawed at them, but by noon, Ehpah and Virdon had knotted enough of them together that Burke began to hope they could still save their hides.

„We'll store this in our hut," Virdon said as they worked on the fishing net. „It's lighter and not as bulky as the baskets. A few more days, and we're done." He looked up at the sky, where the moon was already visible over the eastern horizon. „In another week, the moon will be full - we'll make a good catch."

Burke studied the knife in his hand. The repeated knapping had eaten up most of the blade, and he couldn't hope to win another one from the hunters; he hadn't lost often enough at gambling for that and now they refused to let him participate. Another round of cutting would use it up completely. „You need any more vines?"

He looked up and saw Virdon staring at the knife, apparently coming to the same conclusion. „Just cut as many as you can with that thing," his commander finally said. „It'll have to do."

„You can have my knife," Ehpah offered without looking up from her work, and Burke groaned inwardly.

Aloud, he just said, „Thanks, princess, I'll let you know when I need it. But right now, I need you more." He pulled her to her feet.

„We have more pressing concerns than your love life, Burke," Virdon said in English. He didn't put any emphasis on his words, but Burke could tell he was irritated.

„It's strictly work-related."

Virdon didn't look up from his work, just raised a brow. „Uh-huh."

Burke felt irritation twitch inside himself now. „While you're working on your Jesus trick, I've been thinking about how to improve our chances for our... _fuga."_ He hadn't forgotten that Ehpah had a pretty good grasp on English by now. He just hoped Virdon knew Spanish. Well, he was from Texas, right?

Virdon's hands never stopped working, but his gaze rested on Burke now. „And what have you come up with?"

Burke felt an involuntary smile pulling at his lips. „Biological warfare."

„Is that what you're calling it now?"

„I told ya-" He stopped when he saw the mischievous glint in Virdon's eyes. „Just wait and see. You'll like it." He dragged Ehpah away.

„What does that word mean you said to Virrton?" she wanted to know as soon as the canopy had drawn the curtain after them. Burke used the effort of climbing up the steep slope from the embankment to disguise his hesitation. He didn't like lying to her; on the other hand, despite her obvious fondness for him, Ehpah had strictly obeyed the shaman's orders so far, and hadn't helped them one bit to find the _Icarus_. When he looked objectively at the situation, she was the enemy. If he looked very, very favourably at her, she was still an outsider. He shrugged.

„It means celebration, a feast... after we worked our magic like the Dreaming Man ordered us, we'll have reason to celebrate." Come to think of it, this was actually the perfect pretense to get her to help him. „That's the reason I need you, Ehpah - I want to bring a special gift to that celebration."

„Oh." She was climbing up behind him, so he couldn't see her face, but he could tell by the sound of her voice that she was intrigued. „What do you need me for?"

„Wait and see," he repeated his words to Virdon.

She managed to keep her curiosity in check for almost half an hour, and when she finally stopped and demanded to know what it was that she was about to see, Burke was glad that they had already reached the place. He pointed up into the crown of a tree. „Hear that?"

Ehpah cocked her head and listened for a moment, then frowned at him. „There are bees in that tree. You said I would _see..."_

„Uh, yeah, figure of speech." He waved impatiently. „The important thing is... bees make that sweet stuff."

„Honey." She made him repeat the new word, always the teacher.

„Right. But I," he pointed flamboyantly at his chest, „can turn the... the honey into something even better!"

Her lips twitched. „With your sky-magic?"

He grinned at her. „Well, there's magic in it for sure. But I need to get at the honey first."

Tricking the bees was a laborious task, and they still got both stung, despite the smoking bundle Ehpah carried up into the tree. The amount of honey they got for their efforts was far too small for what he had in mind, Burke thought critically while they distributed the sticky substance into the _cucas_ he had... acquired for that purpose. They'd have to raid another hive.

Great - he was already on fire from the stings he had caught in the first round.

Ehpah folded her arms when he told her. „First you tell me what this is all about."

Ah, well. He had to tell her _something_ , right? „The honey needs to sleep in those _cucas_ for a bit. Then the heat turns the honey and water mix into something nice to drink. It'll taste better, too - not so sweet." It wouldn't be mead, not after a mere week of fermenting - but with the constant heat, it would almost certainly be alcoholic by then.

It wasn't that the tribe didn't know alcohol; the old geezers were fermenting opers, and one of them was chewing some weed that the Dreaming Man had actually designated only for use in rituals. Old Gharta was perpetually stoned, as far as Burke could tell.

But they didn't know honey wine, and Burke hoped that the novelty of the stuff would make them drink enough of it to be knocked out, or at least slowed down when he and Virdon made their break.

Ehpah laughed. „Sleeping honey?"

He couldn't help but laugh with her. „Dreaming honey - and it'll give you sweet dreams, too."

Their second raid was a disaster. Ehpah's smoke bundle went out while she was digging out the honeycombs, and the whole swarm honed in on her so quickly that she didn't bother climbing down the tree but crashed down in one desperate jump, irate buzzing descending with her.

„Run!"

He didn't need the prompt. They both sprinted down the slope they had climbed up from the bay hours ago, towards the only salvation from thousands of angry insects that were poised to pump them with venom in their mad suicide mission to save the hive. Solitary stings were a nuisance; a whole barrage of them was a heart attack.

They crashed through the undergrowth like a herd of panicked deer, the bees in hot pursuit. Burke felt the first stings hitting him in the neck and shoulders like fire bombs when he finally spotted the bright surface of the bay shining through the bushes. He accelerated into a last mad rush towards the shore and jumped.

The bees were still circling over the surface when he came up for air the second time.

When the damn things finally left, Ehpah's teeth were clattering, and Burke was feeling chilly. Usually, the water was a welcome respite from the hot humidity clinging to his skin - if he didn't have to spend half of the afternoon in it. He vigorously rubbed the girl's arms when they climbed ashore.

„S... sorry f...for losing th... the s... smoke b..." Ehpah stuttered, and Burke moved to rub her back. The exertion was warming him up, too.

„Shh, no, I'm sorry for getting you into this. It was a stupid idea." He pulled her into a spot that was warmed by the last sun beams. They had come out of the jungle pretty close to the camp, he noticed now. At least they wouldn't get into trouble for breaking curfew.

After a moment, Ehpah pulled away from him and went back to where they had jumped into the water. She bent down to inspect something, then came back with a smile on her face. „Close your eyes," she ordered him, and after a second, he obeyed.

Something sticky pressed against his lips, and he jerked back a bit. „Keep your eyes closed, Burrke," he heard Ehpah's voice, and he obeyed; when the sticky stuff returned, he obediently opened his mouth.

Sweet molasses flew over his tongue, with a hint of acidity, and he instinctively pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed. He opened his eyes and smiled. „Where did you hide that honeycomb? We were in the water..."

Ehpah grinned and held up a _cuca._ „The bees were very angry that I didn't give them back their treasure."

Burke's mouth was still watering from the sugary assault. He took the _cuca_ out of her hands and peered inside. „You need a bit of sweetness, too, to warm you up from the inside." He fished out another honeycomb and fed it to Ehpah. She sucked it from his fingers with a delighted hum - honey was a rare treat.

When he moved to pull back his hand, she grabbed his wrist and studied his hand as if she'd never seen it before.

Then she licked the honey from his fingers, one by one.

The sensation shot straight from his fingertips to his gut, and from there, farther south; suddenly he was shivering from heat, not cold. „Jesus," he whispered, „an' here I thought you were some shy, innocent jungle beauty. Well, beautiful you are..." His blood was drumming in his ears, his throat. He pulled her close and kissed her. Her lips still tasted of honey. She slid her arms around his neck and closed her eyes as she kissed him back.

Burke kept his eyes open. He always did, to the irritation of his girlfriends... and so he caught the shadow rushing at him from the corner of his eye.

He barely managed to push Ehpah away before his attacker tackled him, but he had no time to evade or brace himself, and the impact knocked him off his feet. They both fell into the sand, the worst kind of ground because it molded around his body like jelly, preventing him to roll away. His breath had been rushed from his lungs when he hit the ground, his attacker was on top of him, and he could neither breathe nor find leverage to throw him off in the. fucking. _sand_.

Ahta - _of course, who else -_ brought down his fist, but Burke managed to block the blow to his face, _should've tried to tie my hands first, moron,_ and for a moment they were just grappling, trying to get a hit in while blocking the other in a tangle of arms. Then Burke hit gold when the heel of his palm connected with Ahtah's nose, stunning the man long enough to finally throw him off.

Burke rolled away and pushed himself up just in time to block another blow aimed at his head. Ahta was too high on adrenaline to let himself be stopped by a broken nose. Blood was running into his mouth and painting his teeth that he bore to Burke in a silent snarl. He looked positively crazy.

Burke fell back a step and into a defensive pose to assess the situation. Ahta took it as a sign of fear and advanced, aiming a straight jab to Burke's throat that he evaded almost absently.

_Always aiming high, huh? That's a solid office strategy..._

Burke feinted a jab to Ahta's head, and the other threw his arms up to block the punch. Instead, Burke kicked him in the inside of his thigh, immediately above the knee.

Something crunched. Ahta stumbled backwards with a cry, favouring his other leg. Burke allowed himself a grin.

_Here's your chance to learn some Jersey City moves, boy. First lesson: expect the unexpected._

Burke feinted a blow to Ahta's gut, got blocked - so he'd learned that you could attack elsewhere but the head, too - but now the knuckles of Burke's left fist smashed into his nose at the same spot as before, only with more force this time. Ahta stumbled back, a new gush of blood pouring from his nose and dropping from his chin.

„Don't worry, some girls like the look," Burke said lightly, moved in to finish him off-

... and came to a halt mid-strike, off-balance from the sudden break in motion.

Ahta had ripped the knife from its sheath and pointed it at him.

_Shit._

_And that's_ my _knife!_

„You are very brave, Ahta," Burke growled. „Not many men use a knife against someone who has only his hands to fight."

Ahta didn't bother to reply. He lunged, and Burke jumped backwards, bumping into Ehpah, who had come to her feet and was now- what? Trying to separate them? He had totally forgotten about her.

„Move away, Ehpah," Burke hissed, retreating hastily some more steps while Ahta was still advancing, brandishing the knife. „Don't interfere!"

Thing was, you didn't need much technique to shank someone. You just cut them anywhere you could get them, and every cut would bleed nicely, and if you got lucky, you'd nick an artery and then clean your nails with the pointy edge while the other guy was bleeding out at your feet. Burke had no intention to bleed out, but with Ehpah in his back, he was distracted, and he _didn't need that shit right now._ „Back. _off,"_ he snapped without turning his head. He kept his gaze trained on the knife.

„Ahta, stop, the Dreaming Man said-" He could still feel her immediately behind him, the warmth of her body radiating against his back.

„Move!" _Goddammit, woman,_ „Don't talk, he not listen!" The finer points of the foreign language were leaving him.

The knife razed his skin from the collarbone to the last ribs; pushing against Ehpah had slowed his retreat for a second. Blood gushed down his chest like a warm shower. The cut itself didn't hurt. Not yet.

„ _Move! Move!"_ He heard Ehpah sob, but the pressure on his back vanished and he resumed his retreat. The embankment was pretty narrow here, and he didn't have much room to maneuver - to his right, the jungle climbed down to the water in a slope too steep to back into, and he'd probably stumble over a vine or into a thorny thicket; to his left was the water, and Burke had no intention to fight while standing knee deep in the current, with lousy traction and the danger of stepping into a hidden ditch. His situation was fucked up enough as it was. So he moved in the only direction left to him - backwards along the shore, eyes fixed on the blade.

He had no idea how to end this; if one of them would tire out, it would be him, bleeding from however many cuts Ahta could get in. Perhaps Ehpah could get help, once she stopped crying and got her wits together. Someone with authority to get the little savage to stand down.

Another strike, and the knife left a white-hot line on his bicep.

_Stop thinking so much, it'll kill you!_

He had to disarm Ahta before the weasel could slash him again. And he had to do it now - Ahta was circling towards the treeline now, trying to herd him into the water. Apparently, Burke's hesitation had given him time to do some thinking, too.

_Lesson two: never give your opponent time to come up with an actual strategy._

Ahta suddenly lunged again. Burke threw up his forearm to deflect the stab, and the knife grazed his neck instead of burying itself under his collarbone.

That one would have killed him.

He locked Ahta's forearm that he had just hit upwards, and smashed his right palm hard against Ahta's throat. He could have used his fist, but he didn't want to kill the idiot - even if Ahta didn't seem to have the same scruples.

The hit was still hard enough to make Ahta choke; Burke rammed his elbow a third time into his broken nose for good measure.

The knife fell to the ground; so did Ahta, burying his face in his hands and making gurgling - or sobbing? - noises. Burke bent down to pick up his knife. „Take your time." He could afford to be generous now that he had the knife. And Ahta didn't look as if he would be on his feet anytime soon, either.

Burke sat down beside him, because a wave of dizziness swept over him all of a sudden.

He looked up when Ehpah came running towards them. To Burke's dismay, she first bent down to Ahta, who was still making pitiful noises. „He attacked me with _this!"_ Burke protested when she sent him a dark look, and held up the bloody knife. Ehpah just shook her head and returned her attention to the suffering Ahta. Perhaps he should have lost on purpose, Burke thought darkly, to trigger her mothering instincts.

Finally, he came shakily to his feet and shuffled down to the shore. He held the edges of the gaping chest wound together with one hand - he'd need stitches... did anyone here stitch people up? and crouched down to hold his bloody knife into the river. Pink swirls rushed downstream, towards the ocean. For a while he just stared at the knife in the water, at the sun reflecting off the blade. Finally, Ehpah came to his side.

He felt... relaxed. Bruised, yes. Lightheaded, yes. But all in all... glowing. Alive. He held up the knife and smiled at her. „Can you make a sheath for that?"

Ehpah slapped him upside the head, her lips a thin line. _„Khode mahn!_ If he'd wanted to, Ahta - he would have killed you! Cut you up like a _t'mden!"_

 _If he'd wanted to!_ Only an idiot pulled a knife in a fight when he didn’t mean to kill his opponent. Well, surprise... „Oh, that easy, yeah? Then why didn't he?" He grinned at Ehpah. „I'm not that easy to kill, sweetheart."

But Ehpah shook her head, her eyes dark with worry. „Don't be so cocky, Burrke - Ahta doesn't forget. He will try again."

Burke didn't know how to assuage her fear. He tucked a stray whisp of hair behind her ear and kissed her again.

_When he's back in shape for another try, I won't be here anymore, princess._


	8. Chapter 8

Urko slowed the horse down to a walk and turned in the saddle to check on the other animals behind him. The horses were dark with sweat, snorting and throwing their heads up against their reins. One of them was limping; another was staggering along with stiff movements. Those two he'd have to send back. Two out of nine. Good horses, like so many other things, were hard to come by.

His own mount, a white gelding, didn't show any signs of exhaustion, on the contrary; he had to stop him from falling into a trot again and again. Urko had tested the new horses - and the riders - to the limit, but he had yet to reach the limits of this one.

When they filed through the gate of the local garrison, the commander was already out in the main square. Urko' eyes narrowed; Dema's tense features indicated he had been waiting for him, to solve a problem that he didn't feel able to cope with himself.

It wasn't just good _horses_ that were hard to come by.

He threw the reins to one of the slaves and dismounted. „What is it now?"

Dema took a deep breath. „The guards have reported the sighting of one of the savages outside the fence, General."

Urko pulled off his riding gloves and started towards the mess. „So? They try that from time to time. Nothing has changed regarding our orders for those incidents." Shoot them, hang the carcasses into the fence as a warning for the others. That he got a _report_ about it meant that something had gone wrong this time. He just had to wait until the idiot before him had worked up enough courage to tell him who exactly had blown it, and how.

„It was outside the _gate."_

Urko stopped and stared at him. „How in the white wastes was it able to cross twenty miles of open grassland without a single one of your men noticing it?"

The commander spread his arms in a helpless gesture. „I have already ordered an investigation, and everyone who had been on duty during that time will face a demotion and decrease of their pay..."

„ _Less money? That_ is your idea of disciplining these idiots?" Urko snorted. „I'll have them crawling through the jungle on the _other_ side of that fence, I bet the prospect of ending up in one these creatures' bellies will teach them a thing or two about vigilance!"

He pushed Dema aside and marched on towards the mess. Great Cesar, he had set up camp in this rat's hole of a garrison three months ago, but the degree of degeneration would need at least another three _years_ of drills to get these failures into passable shape. Not good shape; _passable._ He'd need to shorten the rotation schedules; clearly they were allowing their men too much time in those outposts. Bad for morale, bad for performance...

„The savage threw this over the wall."

Urko stopped and took a deep, calming breath before he turned back to the commander. Dema was holding out his hand to him. Impatiently, the general waved him to come closer.

It was a smooth, flat stone, a leather string wound around it in tight loops. It looked peculiar; not like a plaster stone that a disgruntled student had used as a missile. Urko turned it in his hand and began to pluck at the knot. „There's something tied to that stone," he murmured.

The rope fell away and revealed an oval piece of metal. Urko felt his jaw clench as he turned it around and saw the strange markings on its other side. He had seen those before... ten years ago.

ANSA

When he looked up, Dema was staring intently at him. „What is it?"

Urko palmed the plaque. „A message. Where is that savage now?"

Dema shrugged. „It vanished as soon as it had thrown the stone. The men swear it vanished into thin air."

Urko waved him off; he'd deal with that nonsense later. „It's still around. This," he held up the plaque between thumb and forefinger, „is an invitation to talk. Stay here." He began to walk back towards the gate.

„Get inside," he ordered the guards. "Close the gate. If any of you interferes with what's going on outside, I'll have your hairy asses on a pike." The men hurried inside. Urko heard the gate close with a creak and thump.

There was no sound save for the soft swishing of the wind in the trees.

„I'm ready to hear what you have to say," Urko called into the silence.

A human stood under the trees on the other side of the road and for a moment, Urko believed his men that it could pop in and out of thin air. He could have sworn that nothing had been there a moment ago, and he hadn't seen any movement, although he had been looking in that direction. It was as if the background had peeled away to reveal its shape.

He ignored the prickling of his fur standing on end on his neck and held up the plaque. „I got your message."

The human's voice was low and husky, almost inaudible over the rustling of leaves. „It belongs to the sky people. I know you want them."

The sky people. Zaius had been convinced they were dead, killed by the flesh-eating savages on the other side of the fence. Urko had defied him, holing up in this lost and forgotten outpost for months, waiting for them to swim up to the surface like bloated corpses in the spring floods.

But he had to be sure. „You have them? They're alive?"

He could see the beast's teeth gleam in the shadow as it pulled back its lips in a silent snarl. „Yes."

Urko hid a smile. So not everyone was happy with that state of affairs there. Well, they could work on that, together.

„Why are you telling me this now? Don't you want them anymore?"

The human shook its head. „You take them away, like the others."

Urko was taken aback by that statement. So they remembered? After all these years? Aloud, he said, „I would like to, but your people aren't very cooperative."

The other was silent for a moment, as if it had to parse Urko's words, then shrugged. „They have to go."

„Then bring them to me."

„They wouldn't go with me."

Urko eyed the swollen, bruised face of the savage. „I can't imagine why," he said softly. He wondered for a fleeting moment what had been the reason for that fight. It wasn't a question of who had won, judging by the creature's reaction. „So what do you suggest? Should we come and get them?"

The human gave him a cagey look. „The Dreaming Man wants their magic for himself. But I will make them come to you. To their sky-bird. But you have to be ready."

Urko jutted out his chin. „We are always ready." So they'd get them delivered to their vessel. He'd allow the crossing of the fence for that occasion, of course. He smiled. „Fine. You bring them, we bag them."

The other didn't acknowledge his words; just melted back into the greenery without a sound.

For a long moment Urko stood in the middle of the road, the ANSA plaque wandering back and forth over his knuckles. When he turned back to the gate, he didn't bother to hide the glint in his eyes, the calmly glowing, contained excitement.

The hunt was on again. Finally.

* * *

„I really think you should shake some feathers, or do a little dance before we start, Al," Burke murmured while he gathered his net. „Or both."

Virdon didn't bother to answer, focusing instead on his own net. He had realized long ago that Burke used sarcasm to deal with stress, and this wasn't exactly the most relaxed evening for either of them. „Make sure your lead line isn't tangled with the mesh," he said after watching Burke fight with the net for a moment.

Despite the name, they didn't have lead for the sinkers, of course - he'd had to use stones for it, and small hollow _cucas_ for the floaters of the seine net that he and Burke had set out in the shallow waters earlier. Virdon hoped that the tide would bring in enough fish for that trap to offset any less than impressive catch they'd make with their cast nets. He had also managed to make another half a dozen fish traps, but right now, with the tribe slowly gathering on the embankment behind them, he felt that none of it had been enough.

„I really wish we'd have started at noon," Burke muttered, sorting and resorting his net. „Those glowing eyes still creep me out."

„Evening brings the insects to the water's surface," Virdon murmured back, „and that lures more fish. We have a full moon, and the tide is coming in... we should be fine." He didn't mention that none of this was a guarantee for anything. Hunting was still a gamble; no wonder people tried to improve the odds with magic.

The people behind him were eerily silent; he had expected some whispers and shuffling feet, but he didn't even hear them breathing. They were hunters, he reminded himself, able to lie in wait without moving a muscle for hours so as not to alert their prey. The same unwavering attention was now on them and their strange gear.

He tried not to feel like prey.

„Ready? Remember how to throw the net?" Virdon stepped into the shallow water without waiting for Burke's reply. He had let him practice for the better part of the morning and was reasonably sure that his friend wouldn't wrap the net around himself anymore. He focused on his own throw instead - it would be embarrassing if _he_ messed up now. But the net unfolded into a perfect circle before it hit the water's surface.

There was even a fish in it when he pulled it in.

Burke stood a little way upstream, collecting his own, empty net, and Virdon tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. The evening wasn't over yet, they had just started, and more fish would come in. Still, he had secretly hoped for a more spectacular beginning; it would be difficult to correct a bad first impression.

He threw his net out again; it was the only thing he could do.

They continued to throw their nets again and again, pulling in sometimes more, sometimes less fish, but rarely coming up altogether empty. The buckets on the shore were filling up faster than when the women hunted with their short spears, and some of them came down to peer into them with more interest now; one woman even dared to touch the mesh of his net, but hastily withdrew when Virdon motioned to open it to show her how it worked. He suppressed a sigh; he had no idea how to teach these people if they kept believing that he caught the fish with a magical net.

He glanced at the men further up on the beach; they hadn't moved or uttered a single word yet. Fishing was women's work, he had learned, so their lack of enthusiasm had probably nothing to do with the amount of food that he and Burke were piling up at their feet.

Or maybe they just hadn't caught enough fish yet. Virdon eyed their catch with a critical eye; it was enough to feed every family tonight, but it wouldn't be a big meal, and there wouldn't be anything left for smoking.

Not good enough.

„We'd need something spectacular," Burke said when they were passing each other at the waterline. „These bastards are already figuring out that there's nothing magical about throwing a net into the water - it's too similar to what the kid does with his bird traps."

Iro used slings, not nets, but Virdon agreed, it was similar enough for the tribe to make that connection. Well, he had half hoped that they would catch on and use the new technology themselves... just not immediately. A big catch would've helped to instill the idea that the net wasn't the _whole_ trick. But for that, they'd have needed a real command of magic.

Someone shouted something from the upper portion of the embankment, where the men were gathered; Virdon couldn't understand the words, but Burke spun round and stared hard at the group. „Figures that the sonofabitch would make trouble," he growled.

„Ahta?" Virdon hadn't said anything when Burke had returned bleeding and triumphant, his ANSA knife tied to his belt - the damage had already been done. But he had been expecting the young hunter's retaliation, and wasn't surprised that he'd choose this night for it.

„Yeah. I'd recognize that twang anywhere." Virdon saw Burke's teeth gleam in the twilight. „'course, _I_ gave him that twang when I broke his nose. Three times."

„Yes, that was a brilliant move of yours," Virdon murmured. Burke whipped his head around to him at that, but before he could start arguing, Ahta's voice carried over to them.

„The fish seem to have stronger magic than the sky-men! Or perhaps the sky-men don't really want to catch them? Little girls hunt better than them, and don't look as silly!"

„You know what looked silly?" Burke shouted. „You trying to catch your nose before it fell off! And funny that you mention little girls, 'cause I remember someone crying like one while he was clutching at his face!"

„Get back into the water and throw your net, Major!" Virdon ground out through clenched teeth. The last thing they needed was another escalation between Burke and Ahta, not with their fate on knife's edge.

Burke growled something under his breath, but obeyed. Virdon stayed where he was, keeping an eye on the hunters. They were muttering among themselves now, and stood tense and alert. Ahta had tapped into their resentment, Virdon realized - the men felt left out and disrespected. They'd seize the opportunity to punish him for it.

Ahta, emboldened by their reaction, was eager to put more fuel to the fire. „I think you're not really using your magic, sky-man! These things you're using for your hunt, they look like the traps my little brother lays out for the birds. Can't you tell fish from birds?" He laughed, and some of the younger men chuckled.

Virdon smiled. It took more than this boy's crude stabs to make him lose control. „You're right, Ahta, these _nets_ are similar to what Iro uses for the birds. It wouldn't be smart if I showed your women a way of hunting that they couldn't use themselves. Or do you suggest that they should also use sky-magic for it?"

Ahta pointed an angry finger at him. _„You_ are meant to hunt for us, not _them!_ You promised the Dreaming Man that you'd share your magic for many moons to come! Now you're saying that you don't want to use your magic, so you use these _things_ to catch fish - and you're worse at it than the women!"

The murmur of assent from the men grew louder. Ahta turned to the shaman who had been watching silently. „You heard what he said! He's _not_ sharing his magic! Draw his blood now, so that we can drink his _tisin!_ I'm tired of their treachery - and I want to hunt big game!"

Virdon inhaled sharply when the men began to move down towards the waterfront, and retreated into the water, cursing himself for his blunder. He threw a quick glance towards the shaman, but the Dreaming Man made no move to stop the execution squad.

They'd cross the bay a second time before he'd allow them to slaughter him - and Pete - like pigs. Virdon suddenly wished for a knife, even if it was just one of the tribe's stone knives.

He took another step back, deeper into the water. The hunters were rushing towards them, shoving each other out of the way, eager for the kill. Two or three of them were pushed so hard by their friends that they tumbled into the sand, but they were on their feet again in a moment and hurried after the group. All were in high spirits now, their teeth gleaming as brightly as their eyes in the moonlight. They reminded him of a pack of hyenas.

And then, all of a sudden, they came to a stumbling halt, faces turning downstream towards the sea, their eyes glowing like lanterns as they stared over the water.

„ _Al!"_

Burke's cry tore his gaze away from the crowd; Virdon threw a quick glance downstream, too-

The water was boiling - the moonlit surface seemed to be foaming, a patch of violent movement quickly traveling towards them. His heart began to pound at the sight, and the net slipped from his fingers.

He started to run, plowing through the water towards the stretched out seine net. „Take the upper pole, quick!" He didn't wait to see if Burke complied while he struggled through the water towards the other pole, farther out; he had barely ripped it out and braced himself when the first fish hit the mesh.

The net quickly gained weight as the swarm was caught up in the mesh between the poles, and Virdon decided to bring it to the shore after mere moments; the pole he was gripping was already tearing at his arms, and the net was shaking violently as the trapped fish struggled to break free. Some of them were leaping over the float line, their bodies streaks of silver in the moonlight. The vines creaked ominously; they couldn't compare to the nylon fibers of modern nets.

He started wading towards the shore, and Burke, following his signal, came towards him, closing the net, but it seemed to weigh a ton now, and the creaking was accompanied by snapping sounds. They were struggling against the pull of the net, and the beach seemed to be far away.

Another shuddering jerk, and the net got lighter all of a sudden.

_The damn thing is unraveling!_

Somewhere under the waves, the fish were escaping, and Virdon imagined he could feel his _tisin_ slip away with every single fish that found its way through the tear in the mesh. He doubled his efforts to reach the shore before their catch could get away completely.

A small figure raced into the water and to his side. Iro rounded him and grabbed the float line; he began to push against the net, towards the shore. The net seemed to lose weight yet again, but when Virdon looked over to Burke, he saw that Ehpah had joined them, too. Together, they quickly pulled the net ashore.

They were surrounded by the tribe as soon as they stepped on land, but this time, it was the women who pushed each other aside to grab the thrashing fish before they could catapult themselves into the water again. Virdon stepped back to let them secure the catch; Burke, however, started to move towards Ahta.

Then he stopped, reconsidering; Virdon sighed with a mixture of relief and exasperation.

The next moment, Burke grabbed Ehpah, whirled her around and bent her backwards at a dangerous angle, the perfect recreation of the homecoming sailor at the New York victory parade after World War Two. The kiss wasn't a demonstration of love, or even lust, Virdon thought grimly, but one of triumph over a spectacular catch - and not just regarding the fish.

Burke got his desired rise out of Ahta, who was being held back by two young men - probably his cousins. The other men were hissing, voicing their disapproval, but didn't interfere; clearly, the fight over a mate was Ahta's problem to solve. But they weren't happy. Burke was an outsider, and the hunters were obviously not interested in breeding sky-magic into their children.

The offender was either oblivious or unconcerned, still holding the woman close to him; with a broad grin on his face, Burke nudged a fish with his toe to make it jump. Ehpah was scolding him for something - probably for playing with the food. Their body language made it abundantly clear to everyone that they had been close even before Burke's demonstration of ownership.

_I should've stomped down on his amorous advances in time._

But opportunities for unsupervised activities were abundant here, and Virdon had neither the time nor the inclination to play parent to his colleague. He sighed and shook his head to chase away that concern; it could wait for now. Ahta had been dragged away by his more level-headed family, and the elders had joined the women in the meantime to scoop up the catch. The sheer amount of fish was amazing; despite the partial damage to the net, they had managed to pull meals for many days on land. Virdon's gaze wandered to the Dreaming Man; he still had to make their success official. But the shaman was staring at Burke.

Virdon couldn't make out the man's expression in the moonlight, but he couldn't imagine that it was one of approval. For a moment, he couldn't decide who was more worthy of his wrath: Burke for providing the tribe with ammunition to use against them, or the shaman who was eager to pick it up and use it. In either case, he was determined not to allow the Dreaming Man to add Ehpah to his arsenal.

„We fulfilled our promise," he raised his voice over the excited chatter of the women; although he was looking at the Dreaming Man, it was clear that he was addressing the whole tribe. Silence fell over the beach.

„We brought you food in abundance," Virdon continued. „Just as we promised - but we want to do more than that. We want to teach your women how to hunt with these traps, so that they can teach their daughters, and their daughters' daughters, down the generations. Then the Ah-ti will never go hungry."

„You will do that," the shaman confirmed; his calm voice didn't betray any emotion. If he was angry at Virdon's initiative, he didn't show it. „And you will also bring your magic to the hunters. The moon is full, but their hands are empty. The sky-men's magic will command the boar and the deer to return - like it commanded the fish."

Virdon swallowed. That was an impossible demand. He understood and sympathized with these people's plight - from what he had learned from Iro, the mysterious „fur-men" used deadly force to keep them from leaving this patch of land - but he had no means to conjure mammals bigger than swamp rats for their sake. And he doubted that a herd of swamp rats would be greeted as enthusiastically as the fish.

„Sure thing, mister wizard," Burke hollered from the other side of the bucket line. „We'll shoot the steaks straight into your mouth." He let go of Ehpah and ambled over to Virdon, ignoring his frown. „But not tonight." He slung an arm around Virdon's shoulders and grinned at the shaman; only the tension in that arm told Virdon that his friend wasn't relaxed at all.

„Tonight," Burke drawled, „we throw a party like you've never seen before."

* * *

The fried fish smelled deliciously, making Burke's mouth water and his stomach cramp. It was damn ironic that he'd go hungry when for the first time in weeks they had something decent to eat, instead of _chrooks_ and mussels - and ok, opers, but they weren't really _food_ -, but Burke was on a mission, and his stomach just had to wait.

He poured another _cuca_ of fermented honey for Souna and his uncles... or cousins, he'd never figured out these people's family relations... and pretended to laugh at their crude jokes about _Burr-ke_ having lost his dick but failing to get boobs in return; serving food was women's work.

But he'd be damned if he'd let anyone near his stuff. This poison had to be carefully measured out. Wouldn't do if anyone was still awake after midnight, right?

„Now this is crossing a line here, Souna, darling," he said when the man tried to pat his butt. He easily evaded Souna's clumsy grasp - the alcohol was already beginning to slow him down. The proto-mead wasn't as potent as it would've been some weeks from now, but after the shaman had rushed their schedule, it would have to do. Besides, he had a plan B.

„I could use some backup here, Al," he whispered as he crouched down beside Virdon, pouring him a tiny amount of 'fizzy honey'. „Tell them a story about how we traveled here, or something."

Virdon squinted at him, a half eaten fish in his hand. Burke consciously averted his gaze from the fat-glazed, slightly crispy...

„Wha-?" He'd missed Virdon's question. „Oh, yeah, I need you to dazzle them a bit so I can prepare the second round of honey dew." He hadn't told him about plan B - his commander had already been skeptical about plan A. „I don't want them to figure out that it doesn't have our sky-magic as secret ingredient... you wouldn't want them to become a bunch of addicts, right?"

„Pete..." Virdon said slowly, „these people already know alcohol. I'm sure they can make the connection between fermented _opers_ and fermented honey. What are you really up to?"

Ah. Maybe he should've been a bit more generous with the honey dew for Virdon. But he'd need him up and alert later. „Just trust me on this Al, okay? Give me five minutes, is all I'm asking."

Virdon stared at him, thoughtfully sucking at a fishbone between his teeth. „Fine," he said after a long moment. „I trust you. Don't make me regret it."

Burke grinned and slapped his shoulder. „Would I ever? Over to you, Al!" He quickly retreated into the shadows behind the huts as Virdon came to his feet and waved his arms to get the partiers' attention. He hoped that his commander's experience with bedtime stories for his son would pay off. Especially since the Dreaming Man had politely refused to drink anything but water until now.

Gharta's hut was crowded with the sleeping bodies of children. Despite his fondness for the shaman's dream weed, Gharta had spawned an impressive clan. Perhaps the stuff had other properties as well. Burke hoped that their father had put a little bit of it into their dinner, too-

A pair of ghostly green orbs blinked at him.

_Figures._

He tiptoed over to the little tyke and crouched down with a friendly smile. „Hey," he whispered, „sorry to wake you up, buddy - your father sent me. He wants me to get the dream weed for him. Do you know where it is?"

The kid stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Burke nodded along, smiling. „Great. Can you bring it to me? I don't want to trip over your brothers - we don't have to wake everyone, right?"

The boy vanished silently into the shadows. Burke strained his ears, but he couldn't hear anything, no footsteps, no rustling... a little worry began to gnaw at him that the kid had left the hut and was alerting his dad right now-

„Jesus, you're giving me a heart attack, kiddo!"

Just as silently, the boy had appeared at his side again. Burke sniffed at the contents of the leather pouch that he had dropped into his hands. „Gah! Yeah, that's the stuff - god knows how your father can get it down. Thanks, buddy - now get back to sleep."

He hoped the kid would really fall asleep and not follow him; usually, the whole tribe was active during the night and got their sleep during an extended siesta by day. The only reason the kids were piled up in here was that the adults had wanted them out of the way during the later part of the celebration. It was a miracle that they were asleep at all.

Burke glanced at the pouch in his hand. Well, perhaps not _that_ miraculous...

He had to stretch the remainder of his supply with water, which was bad, because he had hoped that the fermented honey would mask the strong smell of the pulverized weed, but after the brew had cooled a bit, only a faint, flowery scent remained. Everyone should be sufficiently drunk from the first rounds by now not to notice it.

He took the longer way that led him by the women's workplace; everyone was busy gutting, frying, or smoking the fish he and Virdon had brought ashore. It was an impressive sight, he had to admit, and the chatter of the women sounded happy and excited. He tried to spot Ehpah, but the firelight turned everyone into uniform strangers.

„Where is Ehpah?" he asked one woman, then the next, but nobody had seen her or remembered when she had left - or if she had been around at all. Burke wandered around the fires, the heavy _cuca_ dangling at his side, and tried to find her on his own; he finally decided that it had to wait. He needed to dose the men before the effects of his mild booze were wearing off.

They were already awaiting him; empty _cucas_ were pushed in his direction. „This one is even better," he assured Uhsan, who had apparently forgotten their little incident at the bay and was eager to try Burke's improved version. „I call it the 'dew of heaven'."

He poured the man a generous _cuca_ and went over to Ahta's fire. The weasel had refused to accept anything from his big pitcher so far, but Burke had seen him snatching the cup from one of his younger cousins. He hoped that the mead had softened him up a bit by now. He raised his _cuca_ encouragingly and smiled down at Ahta. „Ready to try the next batch, shithead?"

To his surprise, Ahta grinned back, his eyes already a bit glassy. He raised his _cuca_ to let Burke fill up and downed it in one go. Then he held it up again, still smiling slyly in his general direction. Burke raised a brow. The things that alcohol did to people...

„Happy to oblige you." He filled the _cuca_ to the brim and turned away to serve the next group at the neighbouring fire.

„Tomorrow you die."

Against his better knowledge, Burke turned back to Ahta. „Y'know, it's just _called_ 'dreaming honey' - it doesn't really turn you into a Dreaming Man."

He half expected the weasel to come up with more threats, but Ahta just smiled his maddening smile, toasted him with his spiked honey, and drank deeply.

Well, whatever.

From the other side of the camp, Virdon's voice was still droning, a bit hoarsely now; Burke thought he'd heard 'Enceladus' and 'huge _cuca_ ', but people didn't really pay attention anymore. Conversations were dying down and laughter had turned to absent-minded giggles here and there. For a moment, Burke wondered about the allowed dosage of the stuff; he'd poured in a generous amount that had only been limited by the intensity of the smell he had to mask with the mead.

_I hope I didn't kick them into the land dreams for good..._

He wouldn't mention that possibility to Virdon. There was nothing he could do about it now, anyway. Besides, they had their Dreaming Man, who knew his drugs, and who had also not drunk anything from either batch. Burke eyed the campsite - the guy was nowhere to be seen.

Yeah, that was a bit worrying. He could take on a single man in hand to hand combat. But he couldn't take on a spear thrown at them from the shadows.

He wandered over to Virdon. „Congrats, Al, you put everyone to sleep. All those nights at Chris' bedside have killed your ability to deliver a decent punch line."

Virdon coughed. „I prefer to think that it had nothing to do with my story, and everything with that brew of yours. God, my throat is parched - give me that." He gestured for Burke's _cuca_.

„Uh, no, sorry - I need you with your brain intact, buddy." Burke snatched the _cuca_ out of Virdon's reach.

Virdon narrowed his eyes at him. „What did you really give them?"

Burke pulled his lip through his teeth as he followed Virdon's gaze. The campfires were burning low, surrounded by the slumped shapes of people in various stages of intoxication. They'd be out for at least the better part of the night, and hopefully knocked out by the mother of all hangovers for the rest of the next day. He turned back to Virdon and smiled serenely. „I may have spiked their honey a bit with Gharta's stuff."

Virdon stared at him. „You _drugged_ them?" He surveyed the camp again. „Well, it'll give us a better head start than last time. We should easily reach that fence Iro mentioned - they'd probably break off pursuit there..."

Burke shook his head. Virdon's occasional bouts of pragmatism were welcome, but unexpected.

„The shaman is sober as a brick," he cautioned. „For some reason he didn't trust my mead, and now I can't find him. Jus' my neck is itching like mad the whole time."

Virdon came to his feet. „Let's worry about him when he actually becomes a problem. It shouldn't be hard to subdue him."

Except for some water _cucas_ , there wasn't much equipment or supplies to take with them. Burke kept an eye on the dying campfires while they slowly made their way to their hut, but he still couldn't detect Ehpah anywhere, and his unease grew. Unless she was already sleeping in her hut...

„I can't find Ehpah anywhere," he told Virdon after he had a look. „This is weird."

„Did you want to say goodbye to her?" Virdon asked. „That's not a bright idea. She's fond of you, she'll alert the rest of the camp."

„The hunters are out cold and I can manage a bunch of women. But I haven't seen her the whole evening, ever since we brought in the fish."

„Ever since you made a show of getting the girl Ahta wanted, you mean," Virdon corrected him dryly. „We'll make a diplomat out of you yet."

„Ehpah had already made it clear that she doesn't want him, had nothing to do with me." But despite his dismissal, he was worried now. Ahta had been around for the whole evening, right? He had seen him, dosed him with the spiked honey, and now the weasel was snoring the night away like everyone else.

„You've given us a unique opportunity, Pete - don't squander it," Virdon warned. He turned towards the jungle. „Come on, let's not lose any more time."

With a heavy sigh, Burke followed him.

„Where are you going?"

_Aw, shit._

Virdon's little friend had appeared out of nowhere, worried eyes blinking in the moonlight. Virdon froze in mid-stride, momentarily at a loss for words.

„We're looking for Ehpah," Burke said quickly. „Haven't seen her the whole night. You know where she is?"

Iro stared at him, then at Virdon. „She went down to the water to look at your fish slings," he said slowly, clearly not buying his explanation.

„When was that? You think she's still there?" Maybe he could send the kid to go looking for her, but that wouldn't give him and Virdon enough of a head start... Iro would catch up with them quickly, and probably bring the Dreaming Man and some women with their harpoons along.

Burke hated to attack a child, but he'd only hurt Iro's pride. And once the hunters woke up, they'd untie and ungag him anyway. He smiled and moved closer.

Iro looked up to him with huge eyes. „She went there a long time ago. Long before you brought your honey. I wanted some, too, but I'm not a hunter yet," he added sullenly.

Burke stilled. That _had_ been a long time ago. He turned to Virdon. „You know what, let's go down to the water with Iro and have a look. If she's not there, we can tie him up without waking anyone, and leave," he said in English. Contrary to Ehpah, Iro had never shown any interest in learning their language.

Virdon threw a worried glance at Iro, but nodded. „It's for his own safety," he reasoned, „he'd insist on going with us."

The beach was deserted; the sand glowed faintly in the moonlight, nothing but their crumpled nets disturbing its perfection. The women had cleared away every single fish; it was as if their old man and the sea reenactment had never happened.

„It's a shame that I can't show them how to use the nets themselves," Virdon muttered and went over to the dark heaps. „They work a bit like your bird slings," he said over his shoulder to Iro, „did you see how I opened the _net_ a bit before I threw it? Like this..." He bent down to pick up one of the cast nets.

Burke saw him freeze.

_Ehpah._

The certainty grabbed his heart like a vise, choking his breath for a second, bolting his feet to the ground.

Then grief exploded in his head, his chest, his arms, and he was by her side in an instant.

„No, baby, no, no..."

He touched her face, her hair, incredulous, grabbed her shoulders. She felt cold under his touch; she had to be dead for hours. Since before he had brought his honey to the camp. Before Ahta had begun drinking, smiling, toasting him...

He swallowed, his hands shaking with rage now. He carefully untangled her from the seine net, felt for injuries. Had Ahta knocked her out with a stone and then drowned her? But he didn't find a lump on her head. Only when he lifted her chin did he see the strangulation marks on her throat in the bright silvery light.

„Did the magic in your trap kill her?" Iro was staring at Ehpah with a mixture of horror and fascination on his face.

Burke didn't really listen to Virdon's answer. He brushed her hair out of her face... that lovely face, always smiling, or laughing, or frowning at him when he had forgotten a word _again..._ so still now. Ahta's smile appeared before his inner eye again.

„No, Pete."

Virdon's voice stopped him in his tracks - he hadn't even realized he'd moved halfway up the path to the camp. He turned around to face him.

„Why the hell not? I know you don't want trouble, Al, but look at her!" He pointed at Ehpah's still form. _„Look at her!_ Trouble found _us,_ and it killed her. All that... smiling and nodding and playing along, and for what? We're no closer to knowing where the ship is than we were _weeks_ ago, we just wasted our time, and Ehpah's life! And now you want to retreat _again?_ Let that motherfucker get away with fucking _murder?"_

Virdon grabbed him when he moved to turn away again. „What are you going to do, Pete? Kill a man in his sleep after you drugged him?" He gestured towards the camp. „No, Pete, I don't want _you_ to become a murderer! There really is nothing you or I can do here - everyone will jump to the same conclusion as Iro, that it was the magic in my net that killed her, and killing Ahta will only confirm their conviction that we're out to kill their people now."

Burke stared at his friend's tense face. „So... that's it? We're gonna run? Let her... let him get away with it?" The urge to smash his fist into someone's face was so strong now that he had to consciously keep track of where his hands were; he didn't want them to suddenly land in Virdon's face, though that determination was weakening by the moment.

Virdon gave him a little shake. „Do you really want to kill a drugged man in his sleep?" he repeated; slowly and clearly, as if he was talking to a five year old.

But somehow, it worked; the words struck Burke with a sudden force that tore the air from his lungs and the fire from his limbs. They couldn't wait until morning, when Ahta would be awake and fair game for his wrath - the whole camp would be on the weasel's side, and their only chance of escape would have been wasted.

„It was my fault, right?" he asked hoarsely. „I shouldn't have kissed her in front of him. Hell, I shouldn't have touched her at all! But she wanted me, too."

Virdon let his hands drop to his sides. „We both upset the existing order," he said slowly. „I guess it couldn't be avoided. You need to let it go, Pete - with this new development, we need to get to that fence tonight, before the whole tribe is on our tail."

Burke hated to agree; it felt like letting her down a second time. He should've been down here, he should've caught Ahta and killed the little rat right then and there. He should've protected Ehpah. He should've at least avenged her.

He swallowed and nodded. „Okay. Okay. Let's go then."

It was then that the kid threw himself at Virdon. Burke had completely forgotten about him. Now Iro was clinging to Virdon's waist. „Don't go away, Virtonn! You wanted to show me how to use the... the _nets,_ and tell me the names of all the stars, and tell me stories of how you traveled through the sky..."

Burke stepped away from them, raking his hands through his hair in frustration; now that the decision to leave had been made, his rage had turned to restlessness. He wanted to go, _now,_ not listen to Virdon argue with the kid as if he was debating sleeping times with his son, although Burke suspected that those discussions hadn't involved topics like murder, false accusations, and lynch mobs.

He turned around to see how far his commander had gotten with his plea. From where he was standing, he couldn't hear what Virdon was saying, but Iro was hanging his head, so he had probably used the same tactic on the kid that he had been using on him earlier. He frowned at that realization.

When he went back to them to speed things up a bit, he caught the last bit of Iro's words: "...where your sky-bird is."

Virdon stilled. „How do you know that, Iro?" he asked softly. Burke gritted his teeth. So the kid had known all along. If he'd told them, they could've left a long time ago, and Ehpah would still be alive...

„I heard the hunters talk about it, to the others who weren't there when the Dreaming Man sent them to get you." Iro stared at his feet. „They didn't notice me, and the Dreaming Man said nobody must tell you where your sky-bird is, and I didn't want you to go away because you are my friend, Virtonn."

„Yeah, that's what friends are for - keeping them on a leash," Burke scoffed. Virdon shot him a look that told him to shut the fuck up. Then he turned back to Iro.

„You need to tell me where it is, but you can't come with us, Iro; it's much too dangerous. You told me yourself, you can't go beyond the fence."

But Iro was already shaking his head. „You'll never find it without me! Not before the hunters get you!"

„Truss him up, Al!" Burke said in English. „You told me we don't have all night, remember?"

Virdon hesitated for a moment. „You can lead us to the fence and then point us in the right direction - but you'll stay on your side of it, understood?" He ruffled Iro's hair.

„Jesus Christ," Burke murmured, but Iro nodded enthusiastically.

„I don't _truss up_ children, Pete," Virdon said as they set out after the boy. „It's bad form."

„And you really think he'll stay on his side of the fence and wave us goodbye?" Burke shook his head. „I have a bad feeling about this, Al..." He turned around a last time. Ehpah's body was a dark, formless silhouette on the silvery sand.

A bad feeling, oh yeah.


	9. Chapter 9

Burke was vividly aware that instead of walking on the firmly trampled earth of one of the paths around the camp, they were now traipsing through the underbrush... on naked feet. He fervently hoped he wouldn't step onto a snake or some poisonous insect - or scat. That soft mass from about twenty steps earlier hadn't felt like normal soil.

Iro was just one of the myriad of moving and whispering shadows of the nightly jungle now, and Virdon moved almost as silently - Burke remembered that he had grown up on a farm and had probably also been out hunting in the woods.

He, on the other hand, was making enough noise for all of them. He knew it - he just couldn't do anything about it. The jungle Burke had grown up in had been made of steel and concrete.

He heard a crashing sound, moving through the bushes somewhere to the left of them, but whatever it was, it was too far away to have been startled into action by his clumsy feet. Perhaps all the humming, chirping and rustling going on around him even at night would be enough to mask the inevitable noise he was making.

Something suddenly rushed right past him; without thinking, he grabbed at it. To his surprise, it was Iro, who was now desperately fighting against his grip. „Where d'you think you're going, huh?" Burke hissed and pulled him a bit closer. „We had a deal, remember?" But Iro just doubled his efforts to break free.

Burke peered into the moonlight-speckled darkness to see what had spooked the kid so much, and noticed that Virdon had stopped, too. He stepped around his friend, dragging Iro with him.

A silent figure stood among the bushes, so still that he would've walked right past it if he hadn't been alerted by Iro's and Virdon's reaction. With all the hunters back in the camp, drugged by his spiked honey, Burke could think of only one man able to stand upright without scaffolding right now.

The shaman's voice was low, blending into the rustling noises of the nightly jungle as if it was just another animal's call. „You are leading the sky-men away to their white bird, Iro- _an."_ It wasn't a question.

Iro didn't answer; Burke felt the boy shaking uncontrollably in his grip.

„We cannot stay with the _Ah-ti_ any longer." Virdon's voice was almost as low as the shaman's. „One of your people has killed Ehpah... and made it look as if it had been done with my _net._ Tomorrow, they will cry for our blood."

There was a long moment of silence; Burke reached for the ANSA knife on his belt, jerking the still struggling Iro to mask his move.

„I know." The admission was so faint that Burke thought he'd imagined it for a moment.

But Virdon had heard it, too. „You saw what happened?"

„You were there?" Burke could feel the familiar heat rushing up his chest and scalp again. „Why didn't you help her?"

„She was already gone when I came to the water." The shaman still hadn't moved. It was like talking to a tree, and Burke felt his rage climbing still higher at the man's indifference.

„And then you thought that leaving her there like that, wrapped in that net like a birthday present would be the way to go?"

Iro whimpered and Burke realized that he had tightened his grip too hard around the boy's arm. He eased it up a bit, but didn't dare to let go completely - without Iro, they wouldn't find the ship before the tribe found them. Still, he felt a pang of guilt: the kid would sport a bruise tomorrow.

„They'd still have accused us," Virdon said. „Ahta would've made sure of that."

„That's not what I... oh forget it," Burke murmured. Virdon was right - it didn't matter anymore. _He_ hadn't been there when she had needed his protection; if he had, there'd have been no need for the shaman to be pious towards her.

„You will leave the _Ah-ti_ now and go back to your sky people," the unmoving figure said. It took Burke a moment to realize that they were granted permission to leave.

And all it took was a death! Burke gritted his teeth. If only he had known... he wouldn't have held back with Ahta then...

He pushed past Virdon, dragging Iro with him. „C'mon, let's go then before Mr. Wizard here has second thoughts."

But Virdon hesitated, for whatever reason. „I wish I could have taught your people how to use the _nets,_ and the cages to trap the fish," he said to the shaman. „Now they'll think it was the magic in them that killed Ehpah, and they won't even touch them."

Al was probably right about that, Burke thought, but couldn't bring himself to care.

„I had hoped that your magic would save us," and now the voice of the shaman sounded wistful, „but our days are numbered now. Ever since the fur-men drove us from our hunting grounds and trapped us behind the fence, we have been starving. This place is not right for the _Ah-ti_ \- we do not live in the water. We do not know how to go into the water to hunt the water-deer. We don't belong here. But we cannot leave."

They had adapted, in a way - the women were using harpoons to hunt fish much like the men had probably been hunting boars and deer with their spears before - but with much worse results.

„So the fur-men are real? And the fence?" Burke could hear the suppressed excitement in Virdon's sharp tone. He remembered how Al had told him about the kid's stories, but he'd taken them as just that: fantasies of a little boy who sought to outdo his alien friend with even more outrageous adventures than coasting past Enceladus.

„The fur-men built it after the other sky-bird fell from the sky," the shaman confirmed. Burke could hear Virdon inhale sharply. The other ship. Yeah, that had been the part Al had been most excited about.

„That other sky-bird - what did it look like? Who was traveling in it? What happened to them?" Virdon took some hurried steps toward the shaman, and Burke was half expecting him to shake the answers out of the man.

„They were like you." The shaman gestured towards his face. „Dull eyes."

Meaning, no glow bugs in their skulls. Burke wondered what it was about this place that pulled their spacecraft down like a magnet drew iron pins. But then... „The little guy here said this happened ten years ago, that right?" Because that would mean it couldn't have been one of ANSA's ships. They hadn't lost any ship in all that time and had been pretty proud of that record. Besides, _Icarus_ had been the only one of its kind.

There _shouldn't_ be another ship here, _at all._

 _Who else has been working on Hasslein's 'unique' wormhole technology?_ Burke wondered. _China, India, Europe... Russia?_ Maybe even South Africa. The list of candidates grew the longer he thought about it. But even if they had kept it under wraps during development, they would've made a giant show of lift-off... or even if they hadn't, there was no way their own intelligence services would've missed it.

„What did their ship... their sky-bird look like?" Virdon was almost in the Dreaming Man's face and Burke felt a sudden unease at that - if the shaman pulled a knife now, Virdon would never see it coming. He edged closer, his own knife drawn.

„It was bigger than yours. Black." The voice of the shaman implied a shrug. „It was a sky-bird."

The Chinese were experimenting with new materials for their hulls... „What happened to the crew?" Burke wouldn't have been surprised if the CNSA had outfitted them with machine guns to protect their technology.

„The fur-men led them away and tore up as much as they could of their sky-bird. Then they built the fence around it, so that nobody would discover it." The shaman turned away, apparently as fed up with the subject as Burke was by now. He didn't see the point of this conversation - it wasn't as if they could go there and dig up the remains...

„Take me to the place where the sky-bird fell to the ground," Virdon said, ignoring his curse.

„What do you think you'll find there?" Burke hissed as they followed the shaman on a slightly more western route than before. He had no idea how much time their little detour would cost them. „And by _night?_ The jungle had ten years to grow over, under, and through the damn thing! We don't have the time to dig it up! Let ANSA figure it out once they're here... which they won't be if we don't send that signal from the _Icarus."_

„Don't you understand?" Virdon's voice was louder with excitement now. „They built the fence around it - that means it's on _our_ side! We can have a look without anyone shooting at us - and this is our only opportunity to find some clues for what is going on here!"

„You won't find anything useful unless you have a team of forensic scientists, a battery of flood-lights and three months' time to dig it out from under all this stuff!" Burke batted at a leathery leaf in his path. „And even if you'd be able to identify its origin, that still wouldn't tell you why this place is a spaceship graveyard."

„Maybe I can access their log... or at least secure it and read it out on the _Icarus."_

Burke didn't dignify him with an answer. When his commander had set his mind on something, he was unstoppable. Let him stumble around in the darkness and bang his head on some overgrown scrap of that thing's hull; maybe that would get the point across more clearly.

He still kept his mouth shut when they arrived at the place a short while later. It was better lit than he'd expected - the ship had plowed through the forest, creating a clearing in its wake that still hadn't closed completely. The trees that had sprung up in the meantime stood wide apart, letting enough light reach the ground to foster a denser undergrowth than in the untouched jungle around it; he and Virdon had a harder time moving through the thicket, but a better view of what was left of the ship.

There still wasn't much to see. Just as he had predicted, the hull was covered with vines and other creeping plants; saplings had pushed through the gaps of the warped frame and had ripped off panels that were now buried under rotting greenery somewhere in the vicinity. Burke would bet dollars to doughnuts that the interior of the ship - if someone could get there because they had a machete to cut through the vines - was rotting away under a layer of algae and stuff. He had no intention of squeezing himself between slimy and molding hull plates to have a look.

Virdon was pushing through the thicket, tearing at the vines without much success. Burke assumed he was looking for the ship's designation. Iro, back to his old, enthusiastic self again, crept over the smashed remnants of the 'sky-bird' that were no more than brushy little hills now. The shaman... Burke turned on his axis. The shaman was gone. Burke hoped he'd take care of Ehpah at last, now that his mission to creep the shit out of Iro had been fulfilled.

Burke tugged half-heartedly at the shrubs covering a panel. If he was honest with himself, the site was creeping _him_ out - it was like a window into their own future, of being lost in this remote place without anyone ever coming to look for them. He wondered what had really happened to the crew. The 'fur-men' had led them away... and then what? Interrogated them? Put them in jail? Labour camp? Made them read a public denouncement of the United States or whichever nation they hailed from? No, whoever had snatched the poor bastards had been careful to cover it up - hell, they had even cordoned off the area!

Maybe they had killed them. No witnesses, no spilled secrets. Burke tugged harder at the shrub. These guys didn't have any problems with firing at Iro's people, probably didn't have any problems with killing foreign intruders, either. He fervently wished Al would finish his exploration so they could get to the _Icarus._ He'd feel better when he'd get his hands on some _real_ weapons. Something with a longer range than a knife.

The shrub gave way with a ripping sound, and Burke stumbled backwards. In the dark, damp soil, something small and round gleamed in the moonlight.

„You were right, Pete - the overgrowth is too dense. With just our bare hands, we don't have a chance in the little time we have." Virdon sounded so dejected that Burke didn't have the heart to fling a 'told ya so' at him.

So he merely shrugged. „Found anything interesting?"

Virdon shook his head. „Not even her name. I thought I was looking in the right place, but it's hard to tell in this light. And the vines have already lignified. I'd need an axe to peel them off the hull."

Burke bent down to pick up the shiny thing he had uncovered when he'd battled the shrub. „Must've belonged to one of them." He handed it to Virdon.

„It's metal," Virdon said, weighing it in his hand. He held it up into the light to inspect it more closely. „A replica of some fossil... an ammonite." Burke saw him smile faintly. „I used to dig for them, with Chris. He had a whole collection of them." He rubbed the soil away with his thumb, his eyes suddenly distant.

„Hey, why don't you keep it?" Burke suggested. „The guy who owned it won't miss it, and it'll be a great souvenir for Chris when we get back."

Virdon looked at him with a strange expression; then he nodded and closed his fist around it. „Let's go - the moon is already setting."

The clearing had already vanished behind them for some time when Burke suddenly recognized the odd expression on Virdon's face.

For the first time since they had crashed, his commander doubted that they would return home.

* * *

 

The moonlight was shining at a sharper angle through the canopy - Burke guessed that they had been walking for an hour or two - when the vegetation thinned out abruptly, giving way to a stretch of short-cropped grass. Somebody hat cut a stripe of clearing into the jungle, taking care to keep the underbrush away. Ahead of them, X-shaped shadows loomed over the moonlit plain. Something fluttered about them like bundles of rags... like ragdolls. He remembered Iro's stories about the fur-men... they were shooting his people on sight.

Ragdolls? Burke suspected that those fur-guys had come up with a really nasty variation of a scarecrow. He didn't care to have a closer look to confirm it, though.

Instead he focused on Iro, waiting for him to give the all clear. Funny how a little boy could become the uncontested authority for this night. But with his huge, light-reflecting eyes, Iro had superior night vision - he would be able to detect the 'fur-men' long before either of them did. He watched Iro staring intently into the darkness, listening; perhaps even sniffing the air. They were behaving like prey, he realized. It grated on him.

Suddenly, Iro moved out into the silvery light and towards the fence; Virdon whispered a curse and followed him. Burke shook his head and grinned despite himself - had Al really thought the kid would stay back and miss the adventure? Iro took care to stay well ahead of Virdon; probably didn't want a whispered discussion in the shadow of the damn fence.

After a last look at the _things_ dangling from the crosses, Burke moved to join them. They took care to stay hidden in the darkness the cross-shaped installments threw over their side of the fence as long as possible... but the moon was sinking towards the horizon now, which meant that they'd be on full display once they had crossed that border.

At least there were no twigs to snap here, no dry leaves to crunch. Somebody was mowing the lawn regularly. Burke spared a quick look at the full moon in the indigo sky; it was still pouring too much light over the clearing for his taste. He hurried after Iro and Virdon, who were already diving back into the bushes at the other side.

The ground sloped down under his feet now, and Burke cursed silently as gravel rolled down the ravine with soft clicks. He'd never grow Hobbit feet.

Iro stopped all of a sudden; had someone heard them?

But the boy just pointed ahead. At the low end of the ravine a huge, oblong shape gleamed faintly in the moonlight like a stranded whale. The star-bird, its wings torn off. _Icarus._

She hadn't just lost a wing - the whole Hasslein generator ring was gone, too. Of course it couldn't have survived the reentry into the atmosphere; it had separated at its inbuilt breaking points and made a spectacular lightshow when it came down in a rain of fire, hopefully far out over the ocean. Burke briefly wondered what had happened to the reactor that had powered the generators; if the people here were lucky, it was also quietly ticking away in its cask on the ocean floor now, its reaction arrested.

Burke couldn't see anyone moving around down there, nor any lights. If something this big had come crashing down on the good ol' US of A, a dozen acronyms would have scooped up the remains - and the crew - before the wreck would have cooled off. Perhaps the fur-men had taken a day off... The people here sure had a strange set of priorities. Not for the first time, Burke wished he knew where exactly they had come down.

Virdon touched Iro's shoulder to urge him on and they crept towards the silent mass that was clogging up the mouth of the ravine. Burke found himself surreptitiously scanning the steep walls - to any sniper up there, they'd be sitting ducks. His neck began to itch.

The side with the airlock had buried itself into the slope, but the free side provided a new access thanks to the ripped off wing. Burke wondered again how Virdon had managed to land without killing them both.

He signaled to Virdon to give him a leg up and managed to pull himself up and over the ragged edge without slicing himself open. Virdon hoisted Iro up; Burke swooped the kid over the twisted metal and into the corridor, and after a moment of blind searching and fumbling in the blackness, threw Virdon a bundle of cables as a makeshift rope.

The _Icarus_ had been built in space, and was meant to only ever move in space. The wings had been a grudging concession to the idea of having to move inside an atmosphere, in the unthinkable case of an emergency; but the whole ship's interior had been designed for moving in outer space, where one's substitutes for gravity were constant, if slow, acceleration, and magnetic boots.

It was a real bitch to crawl around in when you _did_ have gravity. The rungs that had led from the engine room through the central corridor to the bridge were now at the _bottom._ The floors were now walls, but without any rungs to show gravity the finger. Burke's former quarters were somewhere above his head. No chance to get any of his things from there. Luckily, he always traveled light. The one thing he'd have missed was safely tied to his waist.

They only dared to light a pine chip - or whatever wood substituted for it - for a short moment when they finally reached the bridge, sweating and dizzy from the stale air, until Virdon ducked under a console and switched on the emergency light. Dim yellow filled the bridge and Iro breathed an awed „oh!", the first sound he had made since they had left the camp. There was no way the light could leak out of the cabin and alert someone, but the men still couldn't help but look over their shoulders every few minutes.

„How long do you think the batteries will hold?" Burke murmured. No way to tell how far their voices carried down the corridor.

„That depends on what we try to revive up here." Virdon knelt on the floor that had been the front screen when they had been in space. Everything was tilted at right angles. It was disorienting.

„According to the readings, the comm is working," he breathed after a moment. „I just can't get a signal. There's only silence on all channels."

Burke chewed on the inside of his lip. He didn't like the implications of that. „Maybe the problem is just on our end. Somebody may still hear us."

„Oh, I'll send the call, no worries." Virdon's hands flitted over the screen, activating the automated distress signal. The _Icarus_ would continue to send her position along with it - as long as nobody dismantled the ship, it would do so for years to come.

Virdon sat back on his haunches, staring at the comm; Burke found it almost impossible to turn away, too, maybe someone would answer just a moment after they had left the bridge... but that was like playing the lottery: an irrational hope.

„C'mon, let's go then," he urged after a moment. „I don't want to run into the Yetis."

For a moment, Virdon didn't react; then he began to dig around under the workstation. „We should save the flight data we collected since our jump… ANSA will want to have it, and it's unlikely that we'll be able to return here, given the hostility of the people controlling this area."

Tempting as it was, neither of them was under the illusion that the two of them would be able to hold the ship if they were attacked. The plan was to salvage as much equipment as possible and try to find a spot in the vicinity where they could go into hiding and wait for the cavalry to arrive; staying on this side of the fence would keep Iro's people off their backs, and as for the ominous „fur-people" - well, ANSA had been nice enough to outfit them with flares in the unlikely case that they'd need to use the emergency pod and crash in the wilderness. They weren't guns, strictly speaking, but they _were_ pretty damaging if you pointed them at people. And your war theater would always be well-lit, too.

They'd be able to bring some hard facts to any argument the people here might start, for a change. It was a nice feeling.

Virdon had finally found what he'd been looking for; he pulled out a data disc half the size of the palm of his hand. The disc had a hole to thread one of Iro's leather ropes through, and he put it around his neck like a pendant.

Then he bent down and killed the light. „You're right, Pete. No need to linger." The bridge went pitch black, save for the one silent light of the comm.

Burke thought that it looked just as lost as they were.

* * *

Mom looked pale, and tense, and not at all heroic, and Chris found himself wishing that she'd more look the part. He knew that she _was_ a hero, holding it all together, making them breakfast every morning although she never ate something herself, and going to work, and organizing a sitter for baby Lennie (he refused to call her Helen, because it sounded too much like his dad's name and made him feel as if she was a changeling, switched for the real thing). It was so much, and she was so tired all the time, and getting thinner every week.

But just today, she had to _look_ like a hero, not just _be_ one - because she'd be on screen all over the country, or at least wherever people chose to watch the interview. She had to convince them to join their campaign, and for that she had to look different. He wasn't exactly sure what his mother was supposed to look like, but it should be somehow larger than life, not smaller.

The interviewer lady had positioned them on the couch, Mom with the baby on her arm, and Chris beside her. He tried to sit tall and look determined, like a soldier who wouldn't leave one of their own behind. Maybe he could make up for Mom's slouch and her worry lines going from her nose to her mouth. Those hadn't been there before... before.

„So," the lady said, „no need to be nervous. This isn't live, if you stumble or forget the point you wanted to make, just take a breath and start over. We'll clean it all up before we put in on air." Chris secretly shook his head at her outdated slang.

„Mrs. Virdon, it has been six months now since the _Icarus_ was lost around Jupiter. Yet you started a campaign to launch a search and rescue mission only two months ago. What made you change your mind, four months after the ship's disappearance?"

Mom cleared her throat. Chris hoped that would be something the techies would „clean up" later.

„When the _Icarus_ vanished, I thought that the ship had been destroyed, just like everyone else. But the project's creator, professor Hasslein, approached me later and convinced me that there was a chance that the ship had not be destroyed, but just... transported somewhere else. He said that his new technology may have created a wormhole."

„Professor Ethan Hasslein has been under investigation for sabotaging his own project," the interviewer cut in. „Do you feel you can trust him in this matter?"

Chris chewed on his lip. Mom didn't trust the professor as far as she could throw him, she had told him, and that he shouldn't trust him, either. But he didn't see why - the professor wanted his ship back as badly as he wanted his dad back, so as far as Chris was concerned, they both wanted the mission to be successful.

If it ever got off the ground.

But his mom was maneuvering that interview smoother than he'd have thought. Perhaps it wasn't so bad if people underestimated you - it gave you the element of surprise.

„The campaign has garnered substantial attention - 'Bring Our Boys Home!' is supported by many of ANSA's personnel, veterans, as well as scientists and even Brian Lehnard, the producer of _Bridge of Stars,"_ the interview had already moved on while he had been lost in thought. „How do explain this unusual outreach?"

„The _Icarus_ wasn't merely doing a test run of a new technological gadget." Now his mom sat straight erect, her eyes fierce, her voice forceful. „They were putting their lives on the line to find a way for mankind to travel to new worlds, and find a new home among the stars. We all know that we're on the brink of a global disaster; the oceans are dying and with them, innumerable lives are doomed, not just human ones. If we can't find other habitable planets, we may well go extinct ourselves this time.

„My husband, as well as Major Burke and even mission specialist Jones, as misguided as his actions may have been, threw themselves into that empty, cold vastness to save all our lives. They trusted that our technology would take them safely to their destination and back; they trusted that Earth wouldn't let them down. We owe it to them to do everything in our might to prove worthy of that trust." She took a deep breath as if to continue, but the journalist jumped in again to interrupt her.

„The mythological Icarus fell to his death because he came too close to the sun," the woman said. Chris frowned. That had nothing to do with the awesome speech his mom had just given. „The legend is commonly seen as a warning against human hybris. Do you think that God punished them for trying to break the light barrier?"

What a stupid, idiotic question! What was that dumb... _digger_ trying to prove? Was that a mean swipe against Dad?

„Well, first of all, nobody was trying to break the light barrier." Mom's voice was cool and controlled. Chris looked down at his own hands, curled to fists, and was grateful that she had told him he wouldn't need to answer any questions. He wouldn't be able to play it cool like she did.

„God made man in his own image, and most people, when they create something, want to share it with others; not because they are fishing for compliments, although being praised _is_ nice, but because they want to share the joy they felt when they created it. And I think - I _believe_ that it is the same with God, that he wants us to explore this marvellous universe he created, and that our joy of discovery enhances his joy of creation. That's why he gave us such big brains," she added dryly, „to explore and discover and try out new things.

„So I'm sure this wasn't some sort of divine punishment. We did this to ourselves without any outside help. And now we mustn't abandon them." She leaned forward and smiled into the camera. „There is a story about that in the bible, too, you know? About a shepherd who didn't rest until he had found that one lamb that got lost in the wilderness."

The baby began to fuss in her lap, and Chris took her to the bathroom to change her diapers, glad for the excuse to get out of that room.

He lingered even after he was finished; he didn't want to go back to that stupid interview. Instead he tickled his sister, who was waving her pudgy little arms at him. She'd grow up without ever getting to know their dad, except for some old videos that Mom was showing her even now, so that she'd have a fuzzy memory of a tall, blond man with a soft voice and a perpetual smile on his face.

He hadn't told Mom yet that the professor had asked him if he was interested in private physics lessons; he had said that Chris had a real talent for it, and would be a great addition to his team later. Who knew, this mission could take years; he could be an adult when they found Dad, without Dad being a day older than when he left. Temporal mechanics were crazy stuff.

Perhaps it would be him who found Dad.

Chris inhaled deeply, pushing the air against that ache constricting his chest. He'd bring Dad home. Helen would have a _real_ dad. Mom would be happy again.

Everything would finally be back to normal.

* * *

They did manage to retrieve the flare guns and the freeze-dried protein bars that had courageously been labeled „food" by ANSA, but the parts of the ship that hadn't been destroyed by the plasma leak were mostly inaccessible now due to the low- _g_ adapted deck layout of the Icarus. Virdon supposed it could have been worse; although he regretted that they hadn't been able to access the emergency kits, at least the bars would sustain them for a considerable time so they wouldn't be forced to break cover for hunting. He wasn't as optimistic about the viability of the flare guns in a fire fight as Burke.

They felt their way back towards the exit hole, careful not to trip over the rungs, when Iro stopped.

„What's wrong?" Burke whispered from behind. Virdon more felt than saw Iro turning his head.

„I want to see your magic," Iro whispered back. „The Dreaming Man said that all your magic stuff is here."

Burke's hoarse whisper carried towards him. „We don't have time for this!"

Virdon shook his head. They really didn't have the time for that. On the other hand, they'd never have found their way back if it hadn't been for Iro's help. It wouldn't hurt... it would only take a minute.

„If I counted right," he kept his voice almost inaudible, „this must be the rec level. I'll show him my quarters, perhaps there's something he'll find sufficiently magical."

„Knock yourselves out," Burke hissed. „I'll wait here." He leaned against the bulkhead with a thump, annoyance radiating from him like heat.

Virdon helped Iro to crawl into the tunnel that opened at about chest level - and once had been a corridor - and pulled himself up after the boy. If he had the layout straight, his quarters would be behind the second door in the - now - floor. Of course, if they were closed, there was nothing he could do, but perhaps they were lucky; the doors to the bridge had been stuck in the open position, too, jammed by the warped frame of the ship.

The door was indeed half-open; Virdon had to squeeze through, but Iro jumped in like a cat. Inside, Virdon lit the pine chip again. They didn't have much time, not only because of the need for a quick retreat into the jungle, but also because the open flame ate away what little oxygen was left in the small room.

He quickly climbed over the tumbled furniture and dug into his desk. There was the kaleidoscope that Chris had made in 2nd grade and given him as decoration for his quarters; he held it for a moment, smiling at the memory, before he gave it to Iro. „Hold up the flame and look through the eyepiece," he instructed the boy before turning back to the desk. Iro was already breathing ohs and ahs behind him.

His fingers closed around the cool metal of the dog tag necklace a moment later; his thumb brushed over the engraved faces of Chris and Sally, and he admitted to himself that his indulgence towards Iro had just been an excuse for coming here, using his last - and only - chance to retrieve it.

He quickly pulled the steel chain over his head and stood. „We need to leave, Iro - you can keep this, if you want."

But Iro hesitated; he was obviously worried that the alien thing would get him in trouble with the adults. Then his face lit up. „I'll leave it at our place with the opers. Where you told me the stories about how you traveled among the stars." He carefully tied the toy to his waist. „And then I'll think of you when I look into it and see the stars."

Back in the corridor, Burke squeezed Virdon's bicep in the darkness for a moment before falling to the end of the line again. They quickly made the rest of the way back and silently dropped out of the gash in the ship's side; after the complete darkness of the ship's bowels, the ravine seemed to be lit too brightly by the moon.

They tried to keep to the slim shadows close to the walls as they slowly made their way up the slope. The sky over the summit was dark against the silvery rocks of the ravine; yellow glowing dots crawled over the horizon like fireflies.

Torches.

Virdon fell into a crouch, hugging the walls and trying to melt into the dwindling shadows. The moon was still too high in the sky, sucking the shadows from the crevices of the sloping walls of the ravine. He heard Burke whisper a curse.

He turned and signaled Burke to go back down, towards the ship. The light was bright enough now to see Burke scowl at that; the _Icarus_ was blocking the mouth of the ravine almost completely, trapping them in a cul de sac. The clinking of pebbles jumping down the bottom now reminded them that it was still the only way left to them if they didn't want to meet the torch-bearers.

They hurried downward, not caring about stealth now; it was clear the others knew they were there.

They were almost past the bow, when Iro threw himself back, tearing at Virdon's arm. Virdon flung out his other arm, blocking Burke's momentum, and allowed the boy to drag them into the shadow of the ship.

„More fur-men! I can see them, on the other side of the sky-bird," Iro gasped. Virdon grasped his shoulders in a silent gesture of praise and gratitude, and felt the boy tremble.

„What now?" Burke hissed. „Go inside and look for something else to use as a weapon? The signal buoys have rocket propulsion..." He didn't have to mention that there were too many „fur-men" about for their flare guns. The people here surely had a way to outnumber and outmaneuver them.

Virdon shook his head. „And then what? We blow up the valley and next thing, these people send a whole battalion to Iro's tribe? If they haven't raided the camp by now, they think it's not worth the trouble. I'd like to keep it that way."

„We should at least load the flares - we won't have time for that once shit hits the fan." Virdon heard the clacking sound of a cartridge sliding into place.

„Try not to shoot yourself," he whispered as he followed Burke's example, „safety's always off with these things."

Something cracked and bounced off the hull with a howl. Both men dove for cover instinctively, Virdon tackling Iro as he went down. „I don't think _I'm_ the biggest hazard to my health right now," Burke hissed. They hastily crawled back towards the aft into the deeper shadow of the ship's hull, until they were squeezed into a small gap between ship and hillside.

„I don't want to be the one to say it," Burke's voice was louder now, as if he didn't care who could hear him, „but we're fucked here. They just need to come down and collect us."

Virdon craned his neck to look up the incline. It was very steep, almost vertical, and the earth was dry and crumbling under his fingers. „Perhaps we could climb up, at least until we're at level with the ship's upper side," he whispered. He felt more than saw Burke testing the wall.

„Yeah..." Burke's voice was hesitant. „Can't guarantee that we won't slide down with half of the hill. It's really just baked mud. I guess these gullies aren't permanent, but formed by rivers during spring floods. In any case we'll be making a lot of noise." Virdon heard more soil falling, and then Burke pulled himself up with a sudden jerk. Clots of earth came raining down as he was scrabbling for a handle.

„Okay," he finally heard Burke above him, „try to put your hands where my feet were and use the hollows I make for you." He resumed climbing.

Virdon hoisted Iro up and put the kid's hands into the first intendations. The boy didn't need further instructions; he vanished up into the darkness like a little monkey. Virdon followed suit, though not as graceful or silent. The earth was crumbling under his fingers, great lumps breaking off under his feet as he dug his toes into the hill. They were making an awful lot of noise to his ears.

Burke pulled him over onto the curved hull of the ship, and Virdon rolled on his back and just lay there for a moment, panting. In the pale light that reflected off the metal, he could see the dark silhouettes of Iro and Burke crawling towards the bow again, trying to determine the position of their hunters.

„They've cordoned off the ravine on both ends," Burke whispered to him when they came back. „The ones with the torches were meant to herd us down into the loving arms of their comrades. If not for Iro, we'd have never known what hit us."

„Classic battue," Virdon agreed. He did a quick count of the torches moving slowly down the ravine behind them. Probably as many more in the darkness under the ship. „They must've known we'd be here tonight," he concluded grimly. „There are too many of them out for this to be a routine patrol."

„Who'd have told them?"

Virdon looked down into Iro's small, frightened face and remembered his story about eavesdropping on the hunters. „I know whoever showed you our sky-bird had sworn you to secrecy," he said gently. „But I'd really like to know who it was. Look around, Iro - they didn't care about your safety, either. You owe them nothing."

The boy hung his head. A tiny sigh escaped from the shadow of his face. „Ahta showed me," he whispered. Behind him, Burke inhaled sharply. Iro peered up to Virdon with mournful eyes. „He told me I could go hunting with him, and we went beyond the fence and he showed me."

„Your brother is an a-grade asshole," Burke hissed. „He'd risk _your_ life just to get us out of the picture! Guess it wasn't the _Dreaming Man_ who told you we'd show you all our 'magic stuff', huh? Damn, wish I could rip the bastard a new one!"

Virdon silently agreed with him, but this wasn't the time for recriminations. If anything, he deserved at least as much blame for ever agreeing to this mad trip beyond the fence with a little boy in tow. Ahta probably thought he had a deal with the fur-men, so his little brother would be safe. Virdon wasn't so sure about that. He swallowed, his mouth dry. If anything happened to Iro, he was to blame, not Ahta. „Let's try to get out of this trap first," he murmured to Burke, „I'll hold him down for you later."

They crawled towards the edge of the hull on toes and fingertips, trying to make up for their noisy climb up the hillside with utmost silence now. Below them, everything was dark; Virdon thought he could make out movement and hear silent breathing, but it could also be his eyes and ears playing tricks on him. If you knew _they_ were there, your brain would supply the confirming evidence on its own.

But Iro nodded when he breathed the question in his ear. There were many fur-men lined up in a row, almost shoulder to shoulder, waiting for them to run into their chain.

„We jump down, over their heads, so that we land behind them," Virdon instructed them. „You jump on my sign, but once your feet touch the ground, you run as fast as you can." He turned to Iro. „You don't wait around, you don't look back, and you never, ever stop. Understood?"

Iro nodded, and Virdon felt his heart sink. These people would fire at them, fire blindly into the darkness hoping that a stray bullet would find its target. One stray bullet was all it took. How could they outrun an array of guns? He sent out a silent prayer for Iro's safety. _Please protect this innocent life._

_Please save me from being responsible for his death._

He glanced behind him, where the line of torchlight had almost reached the ship's bow. His body tensed in anticipation. Now the people in the lower cordon would focus their attention on the space between them and the beaters, expecting to see their prey in the torch-lit corridor. The torchlight would blind the beaters as well as the hunters then...

„ _Go, go, go!"_

Burke and Iro both threw themselves into the darkness, and he jumped just a second later, rolling forward over his shoulder to redirect his momentum away from his ankles. Burke was already racing away, Iro was nowhere to be seen, and Virdon was frozen to the spot for a moment, scanning the surroundings for the boy before he broke into a run. Behind him, he heard shouts and the rustling of heavy clothing as the hunters whipped around, realizing they had been outmaneuvered.

There he was! Virdon's heart began to beat more steadily as he spotted the small shadow of the boy, feet pumping, trying to catch up with Burke who was far ahead now, clearly visible on the moonlit plain. Virdon hoped he was well outside the guns' range and wished he'd keep more to the shadows of the hillside, but the ravine was flattening out already and there wasn't much of a cover left. Far ahead he could make out the dark line of trees where the jungle had crept into the grassland again. That's where Burke was heading to - their only chance to shake off their pursuers.

A crack, and something whizzed past his head. Another shot, missing by a wide margin. He sped up, fully aware of the futility of his effort. The next bullet could split his skull or tear through his kidneys...

Ahead of him, Burke suddenly veered sharply to the left and in the same moment, his brain finally made sense of the sound his ears had picked up a few seconds ago - hoofbeats.

Riders! If there had been any doubt that this was a carefully set up trap...

They broke out of the shadows to his right, and Virdon instinctively threw himself to the left, too, to escape this new assault.

He couldn't outrun a horse; perhaps outmaneuver it, if the rider wasn't well trained. Virdon grabbed the flare gun and fired at the advancing line of riders. He aimed low - no use trying to spook the horses if the flare lit up several hundred feet above them. Since he knew from Iro that the „fur-men" were using firearms, their mounts were probably familiar with the sound of gunshots.

It was the hiss and glare of the igniting cartridge that did the trick. Several horses reared and buckled when red fire suddenly bloomed under their hooves, and Virdon made a desperate lunge to the right, aiming to slip between the horses before their riders could rein them in. The distance between them was wide enough that neither of them could club or grab him.

The shadow rose up between them a second before he could make sense of it, smacking right into him, yanking him from his feet. He hit the ground with so much force that his breath was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for air. He struggled to get up, but whatever had hit him was now tangling around his legs and arms, squeezing him ever tighter.

A net. They had caught him in a net, just like the fish he had caught for the tribe a few hours ago.

Virdon rolled around and finally managed to get on his knees. He couldn't see Burke; he hoped he'd made it to the trees.

A tiny shadow was still hurrying across the plain under the moon's too-bright light. One of their captors reined in his horse, white as the moon, and leisurely took aim. Virdon felt his breath catch in his throat.

„ _Irogetdown!"_

His cry was swallowed by the crack of the gunshot. Far ahead, the boy's little body jerked violently and crumpled to the ground. Virdon felt the sharp, hot pain tearing through his own heart as he fought to his feet.

„ _You bastard!"_ He heard his cracking voice as if from far away, drowned by the roaring in his ears. _„You murdered a child, you goddamn piece of shit..."_

A sharp pain exploded in the back of his head and he tumbled into darkness.

 

When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, maybe some minutes? Murmuring voices in the background, deep and rough. Someone moaned.

It took him a moment to realize it was him.

Two distinct points of pain pressing into the back of his head. It took him another few seconds to connect the sight in front of him with the sensations on his skull: he was in a cage, leaning against the bars.

Where was Burke?

After some time, he dared to turn his head. Pain exploded in his temples and he blacked out again.

When he came to... yet again, yellow light flickered beyond his closed eyelids. Someone was holding a torch against the cage.

„Fuck off, you're burning my eyebrows!"

Burke's voice. So he was alive.

He felt relief at that.

Virdon tried to get his brain to work properly again, without starts and stops, but his head was still hurting and his thoughts were slow and disjointed. He tried to speak, coughed, tried again.

„Pete?"

He heard the other sigh with relief. „I thought they'd smashed your head in." Burke grabbed him under his arms and helped him to sit up. Virdon squinted at him, then decided that leaving his eyes closed for the moment was better for keeping the nausea in check.

„I'd hoped you escaped."

„Yeah, no such luck. They had a fucking _lasso!"_ Burke snorted in disbelief. „Took my knife, too. Y'know, I'm really getting tired of having to pluck it from some native's greedy fingers all the time."

Virdon felt for the necklace and the data disc and found them both gone. The panic was distant, roiling in his gut, but unable to reach his addled brain. He touched the back of his head and found his hair sticky with blood.

The cage's bottom moved when someone heavy entered the small, confined space. Virdon felt a shadow fall over him, and Burke jerking back against the bars. _„Jesus Christ!"_

He opened his eyes.

The massive bulk of a man was looming over them, torch in hand. Virdon's gaze traveled up from his heavy boots, black breeches, to a leather vest he wore over a fur jacket.

Why was he wearing fur in a tropical climate?

„It's a goddamn _ape!"_

Burke's voice was wavering as if on the verge of tears or laughter, getting unnaturally high at the last word. Virdon looked up into the face of the man...

... into the face of...

He refused the notion of this being an ape. It was impossible. Burke was jumping to conclusions again. First yetis, now apes...

It looked like a gorilla.

Its sneer was decidedly human.

„So you decided that going native was the way to escape detection?" it said. Its voice was deep and gravelly, exactly like how one would imagine a four hundred pound gorilla to sound, if it were able to speak. It bent down and grabbed Virdon's scalp where the club had hit his skull. Double pain shot through him as the... being... jerked back his head and held the torch dangerously close to his face. The light was stabbing in his eyes, lancing through his brain. Virdon could feel the blistering heat of the fire inches from his eyelashes.

„Unfortunately for you," the voice continued, „you'll never fit in _completely._ No glowing eyes, you see? I'd have picked you out from the herd without a problem." His head was released with a sudden shove that smacked him back against the bars of the cage, and he winced in pain. The... thing turned to go.

„You murdered that boy," Virdon rasped. „You murdered a _child!"_

The man... ape... alien... glanced over his shoulder at him and shrugged. „We have a policy here, and the critters know it." He bared his teeth. „I would've preferred to give you the same treatment, but I'm under orders." He turned away and the cage jerked again when he jumped outside. Virdon thought he heard him mutter something about „bureaucrats" before he began shouting orders to the other... people milling about. The door of the cage was thrown shut, and the cage jerked again. And again.

It was mounted on a cart, Virdon realized, and they were moving.

For a while, nobody spoke.

„I'm sorry about the kid," Burke finally murmured. „I'd hoped he'd make it, too."

Virdon clenched his teeth and swallowed hard.

„It wasn't your fault," Burke offered after another stretch of silence.

„Yes it was," Virdon said hoarsely. „I should never have agreed to him leading us beyond the fence. He could've described the route to me..."

„Yeah, right," Burke interrupted with a huff, „and then he'd have waited like the obedient little rascal that he is... was. Face it, he was as eager to crawl into that ship as we were - and there's no way we could've sneaked past him. Kid was trained from birth as a hunter, he'd have just tracked us down. You would've needed to tie him to a tree to prevent that."

„That's exactly what I should've done." Virdon stared at his fists. He tried to relax his hands and found he couldn't. „You even told me to. Or we just should've stayed away in the first place."

„And lived out our days as Robinson and Friday? I don't think so. You need to get back to Sally and the kids, and I want to get back to the nightclubs and the spaceships. I actually liked my job at ANSA." Burke leaned forward. „You know who's really to blame for this whole fuck-up? That bastard Ahta. He hated us... well, me... so much that he didn't hesitate to throw his little brother under the bus. With family like that, who needs enemies?"

He fell silent again, and for a long time, the only sounds were the creaking of the cart, the snorts and hoofbeats of the horses, and the occasional clinking of metal bits.

„These guys aren't human, Al," Burke spoke up again. „People with glowing eyes living so deep in the jungle that nobody has discovered them - okay. Secret government experiment - okay. But apes? Talking, gunslinging... fucking _apes?_ Where the hell _are_ we, Al? This isn't Earth, it's a freak circus!"

Virdon's head hurt, so he didn't dare to shake it. „They can't... can't be apes," he whispered.

„Come on, Al, I know what I saw! You saw them, too! That big guy visiting us was hard to miss!"

„I don't know what I saw." It had been dark and the firelight could play tricks with one's vision, even if it hadn't been blurry from the hit on his head. „Apes can't talk."

„Yeah, and apes can't ride, and they can't catch you with a lasso. But _these apes_ just did all those things. I tell ya, Al, we've fallen down the rabbit hole."

Virdon wanted to say something, but his thoughts unraveled and trickled away into the flickering blackness that swept up to enfold him again; just before he let go, a single question lit up for a moment like a lonely star:

If _this_ was Earth, where was home?

 

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
